The Art of Not Knowing
by Mariico
Summary: Is it better to want to know, or is it better to want to forget?
1. The Note

**Author's Note: **This marks my new story! This has absolutely no relation whatsoever to GD, and I will put GD a priority to this one. There are very little similarities between this one and GD (though Hermione and Tom both appear, so no worries.) so if you're sick of GD already, feel free to read this one.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Harry Potter. All rights go to JK Rowling.

* * *

The ground was cold against her cheek, and her clothes were stained with water. She didn't know where she was, and sat up, disheveled. Blinking slightly to clear her vision, she looked around for any sign of movement, but found none. It was all a vast empty space of nothing. She discovered how cold it was, and wrapped her arms around herself instinctively, as if that could put a stop to her shivering.

She discovered that she was sitting on a field, which was slightly damp. There was a castle in front of her, and it was illuminated brightly, making her eyes hurt when she looked at it. Next to it, a dark and gloomy forest lay, and she thought she saw something move in it. It was gone as soon as it came, giving her no time to attempt to figure out what it was. She tore her eyes from the rows of trees and then glanced back at the castle. It was oddly familiar, though she couldn't quite remember where she had seen it before.

In fact, this whole place seemed quite familiar…

"Excuse me, Miss?"

She screamed and whirled around, shielding herself behind her hands, as if that could protect her. A man with a white beard looked at her with concern, and she was surprised to see no malice in his eyes. In fact, he was looking at her quite kindly. He held a stick in his hand, which was giving off light, while peering at her curiously. She lowered her hands slowly when he didn't immediately hurt her, but couldn't prevent herself from flinching backwards when the man advanced.

"I'm sorry if I startled you," the man said, putting some distance between himself and her to inform her that he didn't mean any harm. Hermione still eyed him warily, but she let herself relax a little. "My name is Professor Dumbledore, and I am the transfiguration professor at Hogwarts. I haven't seen you here before; are you new?"

She just blinked at him stupidly. "What's Hogwarts?"

Professor Dumbledore seemed to become genuinely confused, peering over his spectacles to look at her carefully. "You do not know what Hogwarts is, yet you still managed to get here?"

"I don't know," she whispered. "I don't know anything. I don't even know my name." She tried to recall what had happened, but all she could see was a big black block. It hurt her head when she tried to go further, so eventually she gave up.

Professor Dumbledore frowned, and then glanced down at her hand. "What do you have there?" She hadn't even noticed that there was a slip of paper tightly clutched in her fist. It was crumpled and slightly damp, but in better condition than she was. She pulled it out, and Professor Dumbledore motioned for it. She didn't know why she trusted him, but she did, and promptly put the slip of paper into his waiting hand.

She immediately regretted that decision. The frown on his face only intensified as he read down the paper. She wanted desperately to read it, but when he was finished, he placed it in his pocket, seeming to have no intention of letting her see it. Professor Dumbledore ignored her whimpers of protest and paced around, his face creased with worry.

He finally stopped after a couple of minutes, and then glanced back down at her. "Your name is Hermione Granger," he said finally. "You're seventeen years old. Born on September 19th, you are the daughter of two muggle dentists."

Hermione blinked. "Am I? I'm seventeen?" She looked down at her childish figure and made a face, and a bemused smile appeared on Professor Dumbledore's face. "Did it really say all of that on the note?" She did not know what muggle was either, but thought that this was not the time to ask.

"Yes." Professor Dumbledore said, though his face became troubled once again. She had a feeling there was something he wasn't telling her. Why he felt it was his responsibility to read a note that was meant for her, she did not know. And what irked her even more was that he felt he could hide some of the information from her. It was _her_ life, not his.

However, she decided that the man in front of her seemed to only want to help her, so she decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. She didn't think there was much about her previous life that was interesting enough to be top secret information, anyway.

The wind picked up slightly, and she shivered. Dumbledore seemed to realize for the first time that her clothes were tattered and ripped, and they were soaking wet. "Come on, Miss Granger," he held out his hand to help her up. "Let's get you changed in to something warmer, and then we can talk. We wouldn't want you to catch a cold."

Hermione agreed, wrapping her arms around her shivering body, and the two of them trudged towards the huge castle.

* * *

The situation was getting more and more strange. Dumbledore had handed her some clothes and let her change in the bathroom. When she came out, he was already sitting behind his desk, writing something down on a piece of paper. She felt it was rude to peer over his shoulder to see what he was writing, but she was curious as well.

The classroom itself seemed rather weird. There were items that seemed to have no relations to each other. There were teacups and needles, and there were even animals such as rodents. Hermione twitched slightly when one of the mice bared its teeth at her. The mouse didn't scare her; it merely took her by surprise.

"Please sit down, Miss Granger," Professor Dumbledore said, and she sat herself down opposite of him. In the light, she could see that he had blue eyes, though they were dark with worry, so it made them look almost grey. Hermione really wanted to know what the note said, but she figured it would be better if she didn't ask. She doubted she would be able to understand what it said, anyway. She didn't understand anything anymore.

"This is Hogwarts, Miss Granger," Professor Dumbledore began. "This is a school of magic. People who are here are magical, and they are called wizards and witches. They used wands to cast magic." He held up a piece of wood. "This is a wand. Do you recognize it?"

The only time she could remember seeing that was when Professor Dumbledore used it as a light source back when they were on the fields. Hermione shook her head.

"I didn't think so." Dumbledore sighed. He then held up the wand and demonstrated a few spells for her. Hermione was initially terrified when red sparks flew from the tip, but as time drew on, she grew increasingly fascinated by this wonderful item. It looked amazing. Something inside itched, wanting to feel the solid wood underneath her hands. By the end of his demonstration, she had wanted to try it and asked him if she could, but Dumbledore merely laughed and said it was for another day.

He then launched in to an explanation on how things worked at Hogwarts. It was awfully confusing, how to memorize which stairs moved and which hallways to steer clear of, but Hermione paid close attention not to miss anything. When Dumbledore mentioned that there was a library, she felt a spark within herself. Maybe her previous self had loved books. She would have been disappointed if she hadn't.

Dumbledore explained to her the classes that she could learn at Hogwarts, and gave her a brief explanation of each. He had also introduced her to the professors, though she had shrieked and jumped back when one of the professors in the pictures waved at her. Dumbledore had laughed and explained that pictures in the wizarding world could move. She accepted it as another weird thing about magic, but she tried to steer clear of the pictures for the rest of the evening. There was just something about living object inside a portrait that scared her.

"Which classes did you sign me up for?" Hermione inquired curiously. She didn't see any problem with any of the classes he told her about, but she didn't know if there was a limit to the number she could take. She wanted to take them all, but she had the intelligence of a kindergartener right now. She would study up in the library, but she didn't want to fail all her classes before she could catch up.

"All of them," he said, and Hermione didn't question him about that again. She could easily see from the look on his face that it had something to do with the content of the note. Hermione, however, wasn't complaining. She would just have to lose a couple nights of sleep to learn the material, and then she would do fine.

She would wait till he was gone from his room one day, and then she'd steal the note. Hermione felt bad about thinking this way, but she felt that it was her right to read it. After all, it mentioned so much about her life while Professor Dumbledore hadn't given any indication that it mentioned his at all.

"House points are awarded to those who behave," Dumbledore continued. "And they are deducted from students who cause trouble. We have four houses here: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. The goal is to work towards earning more points for your house so they can win the house cup at the end of the year. Points can be earned in a variety of ways. The easiest method would be to answer a question correctly in class."

Hermione nodded, quite fascinated with the system. She wondered if there was a cap to points she was allowed to earn as well. She would set a goal for herself; perhaps, one hundred in the first day? Or perhaps that would be too little. She would have to see if she could get to two hundred. Or maybe even three hundred, if she truly tried.

"There are prefects here to enforce the rules." Dumbledore said, though his face grew grave. Maybe there was someone in the system that he didn't like. "Fifth and sixth years are allowed to be picked to be prefects. The head of all prefects, however, are the Head Boy and Head Girl. They are two individuals who are in their seventh year who the school feels like are the best of their year. They have their own room." Hermione thought she saw a hint of annoyance in his expression, but it was gone as quickly as it came. "You, my dear, are in seventh year."

"Am I?" Disappointment crashed down on her. She had barely just gotten to this magical school, and already she was informed that this would be her last year? She only had a year to explore this place? What would she do afterwards? What _could_ a person with no memory of her past do?

"Yes you are." Dumbledore said, and his face creased again. "You are also Hogwarts' new Head Girl." He looked at her cautiously, judging her reaction.

It took her a moment to register what he had said, and then her mouth dropped wide open. "I-I'm _what_?" She asked. "I just got here five minutes ago! I don't know how anything works! How can I be _Head Girl_?"

Dumbledore didn't answer her, and Hermione had to resist the strong urge to rip his drawers open just to look at that note. What on that note made her so important? How could a girl who had lost her memories suddenly be promoted in to Head Girl, one of the highest honors in this school?

"I can't be Head Girl," Hermione muttered to herself, shaking her head. The situation was getting more and more bizarre. All she wanted to do was become a regular student, blending in with everyone, while she tried to recover her memory. She did not want to stand out like this. "What's the date?"

"It is November third, Miss Granger."

"Then school has already started for awhile, hasn't it?" Dumbledore nodded. "There should already be a Head Girl. Why replace her with me? I'm sure there are many replacements that are more capable than me." She did not even know why the current Head Girl had to be removed. Was she doing a bad job? Or was this just because of the note?

Dumbledore shook his head. "I'm sorry, Miss Granger, but this is one issue that I cannot allow you to refuse. I have already sent Horace to inform Miss Longbottom to remove herself from her room. Your luggage has already been delivered there."

This was all going on without her consent, and Hermione felt bad for this girl, Longbottom, already. The girl, no matter what she was like, did not deserve this. She worked so hard for the position, and now it was immediately stripped from her. "You can't just kick someone out for _me_," she protested. "That's not right—"

Before she could finish her sentence, the door opened and another man strolled in. He looked as old as Dumbledore did, though he had a rather gullible expression on his face. Unlike Dumbledore, he had a cheerful grin on his face, not at all matching the tense atmosphere in the room. He shut the door and happily sat down in between the two of them, humming merrily.

"Hello, Albus!" The man greeted. His eyes swiveled to her. Hermione almost flinched; he seemed almost…_too_ cheerful, like a doll. "And hello, girl Albus found on the fields!" Hermione merely blinked at his nickname for her. "I came here as soon as possible. Did I miss anything important?"

"Miss Granger," Dumbledore said. "This is Professor Dippet. He is the headmaster here."

The headmaster? She had thought that title was Dumbledore's. If he wasn't the headmaster, then who gave him the right to make decisions as important as this? Why had she given him the note rather than to Dippet? However, on the outside, she smiled slightly at Dippet and bowed her head slightly. "Thank you for taking your time to come down here, Headmaster."

"No problem, it's my pleasure! It's always nice to have someone new join our wonderful school." Dippet turned to Dumbledore. "Now, Albus, would you mind filling me in?"

"Miss Granger has lost all her memories," Dumbledore informed him. "She arrived here with a note in her hand that vouched for her brilliant mind and her responsible image. I have decided to make her Head Girl."

Hermione knew for a fact that the note said much more than just that, and it irked her that Dumbledore could just lie so easily.

Hermione expected Dippet to interrupt and protest right away, but instead the old man just looked confused. "Isn't Augusta head girl?" He asked, a blank look on his face. "Or was that last year? There are just so many wonderful students I forget them all!"

_He doesn't know? _Hermione eyed Dippet incredulously, beaming as if it was something to be proud of. _Some headmaster he is._

"Yes, though I feel under the circumstances, Miss Granger would be more suitable for the position."

Dippet, to Hermione's amazement, didn't ask to see the note. Nor did he question Dumbledore's judgment at all. Instead, he beamed and clapped his hands together and said, "Great! I see you have things under control already." He looked back at Hermione. "Has she been sorted yet?"

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Dumbledore cut her off. "No, I was just going to do so before you arrive," Dumbledore took out a tattered hat and pointed at it. "This, Miss Granger, is the sorting hat. It'll let you know which house you are the most suitable for. Would you mind putting it on now?"

"I-no." She reached for it, her mind still whirling about thoughts of Dippet and Dumbledore. It seemed as if Dumbledore was pulling the strings in this school, and Dippet was a mere figurehead. She regretted her decision to give the note to Dumbledore, and wished she could go back in time and read it before he did. She had thought of him to be trustworthy at first, but now that she had actually talked to him, it sounded as if he was just manipulating Dippet. Who knew if he was going to manipulate her as well.

She plopped the hat on top of her head, and it covered her eyes. It was dead silent for awhile, and Hermione was about to pull it off and ask how she could be sorted by a _hat_ when suddenly, a voice was speaking in her ear.

"_Hello, Hermione Granger." _The voice sounded old and slightly cracked. It was rather quiet as well, so Hermione had to strain her ears to hear. "_It has been a long time, hasn't it? __We meet again._"

"Again?" She asked. Did the hat know about her past? Why she was here with no memories? "What do you mean, again?" She wanted answers, and the hat seemed to have the answers. Now, if only she could coax them from it.

The hat chuckled, but didn't answer her question. _"I see you're in a different state than you were before," _it said. It sounded rather amused, almost like it knew everything about her but didn't feel like telling her. _"That's quite an impressive memory block you've got there. You remember nothing?"_

Hermione shook her head, but didn't know if the hat could sense her as well as hear her, so she added, "No. Can you please tell me?"

"_Interesting." _It purred, like she was a game that he was playing. It didn't go unnoticed by Hermione, however, that it had once again ignored her question. _"Now I believe you are here to be sorted."_

Suddenly, a short memory flashed by and Hermione saw the hat singing on a stool in front of hundreds of students. "No song, please," she requested in a timid voice.

The hat sounded surprised. _"You remember?"_

"Not quite." The memory was gone as fast as it had come. "It's gone now. I can't even remember why I said it." Her mind was black again, but it gave her hope that she could remember other things as well soon.

The hat chuckled. _"I usually sing a song for everyone I sort. But seeing as you requested so nicely, I will let you be. Now close your mind, dear child, and let me look in your mind._" It sounded quite like Dumbledore, and Hermione wondered absentmindedly if this was one of his creations.

"There's nothing to look at." She pointed out. Her mind was completely blank.

"_I wouldn't be so sure of that, Hermione Granger. Just because your memories are not present does not mean that Hermione Granger is not inside that body. You would do well to remember that. Now, I believe our time is up, and I hope to see you again in the future, preferably safe and sound." _Before Hermione could ask what it meant, it shouted out, _"GRYFFINDOR!"_

Hermione removed the hat shakily and placed it on the table. Dumbledore was smiling gently at her, while Dippet was clapping loudly. It seemed to be the only thing he could do. _She_ could probably be a better headmaster than he was, though she wisely decided to school her features into a nice smile instead.

"Marvelous! Albus here is the head of your house. Quite a fine one, if I may say so," Dippet glanced towards the clock. "It's getting rather late, so I must retire to my room. I hope to see you at breakfast tomorrow, Hermione." With that said, he got up and exited the room, leaving Hermione once again with the transfiguration teacher. Hermione didn't quite trust him anymore; he was more powerful and manipulative than she had originally thought. She was going to pretend to trust him while she went on with his own agenda.

"I believe it is time for me to retire as well," Dumbledore said, standing up. Hermione copied his actions, eyeing the hat, which had deflated in to a mushy puddle of cloth, suspiciously. "Come along, Miss Granger. I will show you your room."

* * *

Even though the room was not rightfully hers, and she had essentially kicked someone out to have the right to live in it, Hermione couldn't help but admire its beauty.

When she had first entered the Head headquarters, there had been a huge room that greeted her. Comfortable armchairs dotted the room, and a large fire burned in the fireplace. Dumbledore informed her that it was the Head Common Room, and she would be required to share it with the Head Boy. Not that Hermione had any problem with that; the room was too large for her to have on her own, anyway, and she planned to spend much of her time in the library.

Two stairs led up to two different rooms. One for the Head Boy and one for the Head Girl. Dumbledore had left her after that, so she had been allowed to explore her room by herself. The previous girl's stuff had been cleared out, and her suitcase was indeed in the room. She opened it curiously, as she didn't have any possessions from her past life, and found that it had all the supplies needed for the school year. There was also a big, furry cat which had pounced on her the second she entered the room. He was to remained unnamed until she found a good name for him.

She was sitting on the bed, admiring the room, when the door opened, and a boy came through. His back was to her, though, which she found extremely weird. Did he always walk backwards? He had black hair, and looked rather tall, though she couldn't get a glimpse of his face. He was wearing the same robes that she had found in her suitcase, though, so she assumed that it was the school uniform.

Hermione was about to tell him that he had the wrong room, and ask him how he missed the words 'Head Girl' engraved on the door, when she spotted another person entering the room right after him.

The person was a girl dressed in the same robes, but there was a pin attached to it, glittering under the light. She was on the shorter side with brown hair reaching her shoulders, slightly wavy. She was giggling, and before Hermione could say anything, stepped inside the room. She shut the door behind her, and then her back was to the wall, and the boy was snogging her senseless. Hermione gaped as the girl wounded her arms around his neck to bring him closer, and the boy's hands settled on her waist. They were so close; there wasn't any room between their bodies.

After a full minute of watching them, she cleared her throat loudly when the boy's hands began travelling downwards, causing both of them to notice her for the first time. The boy stepped away from the girl, which caused a look of disappointment to cross her face. "I'm sorry for interrupting." She must've been blushing; her face felt so hot. "But I think you have the wrong room."

The boy cocked his head to one side, and Hermione suddenly realized how _handsome_ he was. His eyes were grey, and his hair was combed to one side. His cheekbones were high and his hands were large and fingers long. He assessed her carefully, and Hermione found herself blushing again just under his stare. Seemingly satisfied, he shot her a wink, and Hermione very nearly wanted to melt into a puddle.

Hermione was very tempted to cross the room to check if someone had accidentally turned the heater on too high.

The girl, however, was less friendly. "How dare you!" She shrieked, pointing an accusing finger at Hermione. "This is _my _room, and you dare to come here and say this is _yours_? Who are you, anyway? I've never seen you before." She huffed. "Have you ever heard of privacy?"

Realization dawned Hermione, and she glanced at her, eyes open wide. "A-are you Augusta? Augusta Longbottom? The Head Girl?"

The girl blinked at her, and then a proud smile appeared on her face. "Yes I am." She announced. "If there's a conflict, you should wait downstairs. It has been a rule to never come in the Head common room. Ever." She shot Hermione a suspicious glance. "How did you get in here, anyway?"

Hermione bit her lip and looked down. "Um…"

"Hey!" Augusta looked around, suddenly realizing that the room was filled with Hermione's possessions. "Where did all my stuff go?" She narrowed her eyes at Hermione. "Did you hide it? Do you think this is _funny_?" She held up her hands before Hermione could speak. "Or, is this another dare? You think you're all cool, don't you, sneaking into the Head Girl's room. You think that makes you in the 'in crowd,' don't you?"

"I did not." She looked down. Augusta 's snog buddy was looking at her in amusement—though Hermione wasn't sure if he was laughing at her or the whole situation in general—and she wasn't going to risk meeting his eyes again. She had blushed enough for a lifetime. Plus, if her face got any redder she was sure she was going to explode. "Er…I'm the new Head Girl."

There was a moment of silence when no one spoke, and then Augusta, to Hermione's surprise, laughed. "Oh, I was wrong! You do have a sense of humor." She giggled and clutched the boy's arm to steady herself. The boy seemed to send her a disgusted look, but it was gone as soon as it came, making Hermione wonder if she imagined it. "Who sent you here to cheer me up? That was the funniest thing I've heard all day. I must thank them."

Hermione blinked. "No. Professor Dumbledore told me that he sent someone to tell you that I'm the new Head Girl. Someone named Horace, I think."

"Ah, old Sluggie." The boy spoke for the first time, and Hermione realized that his voice, along with his face, was melodic. She wouldn't mind listening to it all day. He looked amused, as if he shared some secret with this 'Sluggie.' "Forgetful as always."

"Tom!" Augusta said, her amused expression sliding off. "Don't tell me you believe her!"

"She's not lying." Tom gestured towards Hermione, who was staring at the two of them with big eyes. "Though, Head Girl?" he narrowed his eyes at her. "What have _you_ done to deserve this?" Hermione felt herself shrinking back under his scrutinizing gaze.

"Yes, why!" Augusta narrowed her eyes at Hermione, and then turned back towards Tom. "Do you think it's because of the house unity again? Because I'll go let him know that the two of us get along perfectly fine!" Tom sent her a small reassuring smile, and Hermione almost snorted; from what she had witnessed, the two of them got along more than fine.

"No, it's not." Hermione offered helpfully. Dumbledore had told her a little about the rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Judging from the facts, it looked like this Tom guy was in Slytherin. "I was sorted in to Gryffindor as well."

"Then what is it?" Augusta harrumphed. "This is scandalous! This is not fair!" She pointed at Hermione again, and Hermione found herself shrinking back at the girl's furious glare. "You can't just take my position like that!"

"I know." Hermione tried to apologize. "I told Professor Dumbledore that, but he forced me to take it. Please talk to him for me and tell him that this is not right."

Augusta looked genuinely surprised for a moment, and then a sneer appeared on her face. "Trying to look like you're the victim, aren't you? I know you're a lot of things, but you most definitely are _not_ the victim. Don't think you can solve the whole problem by acting like one."

"What?" Hermione looked at her pleadingly, but the girl simply ignored it. "You have to believe me. I don't even _want _this position. I tried to tell them that it was rightful yours. I—where are you going?"

Augusta was heading towards the door. "I'm going to see Professor Dumbledore." She snarled. "And when I get back, I will see you in Azkaban for manipulating a teacher's thoughts. It's highly illegal, especially in something as important as this. You may as well have murdered someone." She all but slammed the door, and Hermione could hear her stomping all the way downstairs.

The boy named Tom still remained, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He had his smirk on his face and was looking at her with his grey—and beautiful—eyes. Unlike Augusta, he didn't seem to mind this arrangement at all. Part of her felt guilty that she interrupted Augusta when she was obviously busy, but part of her was glad that she did.

"So." Tom tilted his head slightly. "Who are you, exactly?"

"Erm." She found her mind going blank. "I-I'm Hermione Granger."

Tom narrowed his eyes suddenly, all signs of amusement gone from his face. Hermione gulped nervously. "_Granger_?" He asked, an angry tone in his voice. "Are you a _mudblood_?"

Hermione blinked, and then shrugged. "I don't know." Dumbledore never mentioned that word. "It depends what that is." It was a unique sort of word, though. If she was to harbor a guess, it sounded like someone who had mud for blood. It sounded like an insult, but there was no way this Head Boy would use insults like that. He had to be a model student, after all. There must be another meaning for the word.

Tom didn't seem to believe her. "What's your blood status?"

_Blood status?_ Hermione was puzzled. "Er…do you mean blood type?" She questioned. "Because Professor Dumbledore told me my blood type is O."

"Dumbledore _told_ you?" Tom said suspiciously. "What is he, your father?" Apparently, the very notion disgusted him as he began back up from her, an ugly look on his face. Hermione didn't know whether or not to feel offended. Did he think she was too _stupid_ to be his daughter.

"I lost my memory," Hermione explained. "I woke up on the fields just a couple of hours ago. There was a note in my hand, but Professor Dumbledore wouldn't let me read it. It seemed to give a biography of my life." She suddenly looked at him. "Is it normal?"

"Is it _normal_?" He looked at her, and when he saw she wasn't joking, let out a small chuckle. "Of course it isn't normal." He was quiet for a couple of minutes, and then smirked at her. "Welcome to the position, Hermione Granger." He purred. "I'm looking forward to getting to know you better."

"B-but," Hermione sputtered, cursing herself for not taking the easier path by returning the sentiment. Why did she have to stutter? Stuttering was terribly unattractive, and judging by the smug look on his face, he knew exactly the effect he was having on her. "Augusta is going to talk to Professor Dumbledore right now."

"She's not going to change his mind," Tom said simply, and then his handsome face changed in to a scowl. He muttered something that sounded like, "If only he were so easy to manipulate," under his breath, but Hermione wasn't sure if she heard him correctly. He then looked her over, a small smirk playing on his lips. "Someone like _you_ couldn't possibly have manipulated him."

She was slightly insulted, but it was the truth. She pulled out the wand that Dumbledore had given her and eyed it sadly. "I suppose that's true." She said. "I don't even know how to use this thing."

When did he become so close to her? He had somehow managed to move away from the wall without making a sound and now stood in front of her. His hand moved, and for a second, Hermione thought he was going to take her wand. Instead, his soft fingers went under her chin and he tilted her chin up to look at him. He leaned closer, so she could feel his warm breath, and he hers.

"Then I'll just have to teach you, don't I?" He said, his eyes softly sparkling. Hermione found herself nodding, and then to her dismay, he stepped back. He told her when to get up for breakfast, and then left for his own room. As the door swung shut behind him, Hermione could feel his absence already, the room instantly ten degrees colder.

It had been two hours and six minutes since she had been discovered on the field by Professor Dumbledore. Two hours and six minutes since she woke up and discovered she had lost her memory. Two hours and six minutes since she had spotted this huge castle.

Two hours and six minutes before, she didn't know what magic was, and who Tom was.

She was already looking forward to life here at Hogwarts.


	2. All an act

**Author's Note: **I didn't have enough time to write something as long as the usual chapters for GD (title still pending) so I decided that since this story had shorter chapters, I'd work on this one this week.

I bet you can tell the different between this Tom and the GD Tom right away.

Thank you for reviewing!

Virtuoso Wanderings, MIGHTY RULER OF GUMMY BEARS, Weird-Chik2, Berrygroff, BlackKeys, tHevoLtuRi'SdARkpRiNceSS, Anonymous, LK-HoGwArTs-hEaDgIrL, reader204, morpheusandmuse, dragomirs, lizzywithfire

* * *

"Look, there she is," Elladora Black crooned gleefully, pointing towards a certain bushy haired girl as she made her way to the Gryffindor table, looking uncertain. "Quite the adorable thing, isn't she? She should be quite fun to break."

Alphard Black frowned at his sister, but before he could say anything, Mulciber cut him off. "I wouldn't touch her with a ten foot pole," he sneered. "She's a mudblood." The effect was immediate; Elladora wrinkled her note and glared across the room in disgust.

"I also heard," Alphard said quietly. Unlike the others, the notion of her blood type did not disgust him. "That she was made Head Girl upon her arrival." He glanced at Tom. "Is that true?"

Tom, who had been quietly playing with Druella Rosier's hair, looked up when his name was mentioned. Druella giggled when everyone glanced pointedly at her position in his lap, and then shot a triumphant smile at Elladora. The latter scowled and looked away.

"She is," Tom confirmed, keeping his voice neutral. Elladora gasped and looked like she was about to faint. Well, she had always been the drama queen. Tom's eyes flicked over to the Gryffindor table, where Hermione had sat on the very end. A couple of first years were eyeing her strangely, but she seemed too nervous to care.

"I thought Longbottom was Head Girl," This came from Goyle, who had a stupid smirk on his face. "What the hell is a mudblood doing, replacing her?"

"Why, Goyle," Evan Rookwood sniggered. "You sound as if you actually _want_ Longbottom to be Head Girl."

"I do not," Goyle denied immediately. "But anything is better than a _mudblood._ Plus, isn't Tom in a relationship with her?" He glanced at Tom for confirmation.

Elladora and Druella seemed to be interested in his answer. Tom merely smirked and said, "Not any more." Hermione took care of that relationship quite nicely. He glanced at the Gryffindor table once again, and his smirk was completely wiped off when he saw his new interest being led to the seventh year section of the table. She was wedged between Charlus Potter and Cedrella Weasley, whose red hair was brighter than ever. The two of them seemed to be talking a lot, while Hermione settled with just bobbing her head up and down in agreement.

Augusta herself seemed to be completely out of it. Her friends shot glares at Hermione, but she herself didn't seem to be bothered to do so. She quietly picked at her food, and her Head Girl badge was noticeably missing from her robes.

"Look at her," Elladora cackled, pointing at Hermione. "She looks so naïve. She'll be so easy to manipulate." She rubbed her hands together. "This should be fun."

"Why would you need to manipulate her?" Mulciber sneered. "Just curse her. You know have quite an arsenal of curses, Ella. I'm sure you'll be able to find one to your liking." His eyes glinted. "You have yet to show me the curse you were talking about. The one where a person is so delirious, they eat themselves."

Elladora grinned wickedly, but Druella let out a small cry of horror and hurried to cover Tom's ears. "Don't talk about those things here," she said, a frown on her face. "Tom is a good person. Don't corrupt him with your evilness." She lifted her hands and cooed at him. "It's alright now. Druella won't let you listen to those horrid curses."

This time, Tom had to struggle not to laugh outright, but all the attention was taken off of him when Alphard sniggered. "Yes," he said softly. "There's no need to teach Tom about those horrid curses."

There were a dozen replies Tom had at the tip of his tongue, but none of them were appropriate given their location. Dumbledore was scanning the Hall as he always did, and his gaze lingered on the Slytherin table. Tom simply cocked his head to one side and said, "Careful, Alphard." The boy immediately got the hint and shut his mouth and turned away, but not before Tom saw the grimace appear on his face.

It looked like some cursing was needed to remind Alphard of his place.

When he recruited Alphard two years ago, he had expected a typical Black. Someone like Elladora, who would throw herself at him daily and worship the feet he walked on. He did not allow girls in to his circle, so Alphard was the obvious choice. The Black family was powerful, and he could use them to his advantage.

Alphard, however, never seemed to get the point. If Tom didn't know any better, he would say that Alphard was sent to earth for the mere purpose of annoying the crap out of him. Anything Tom said, Alphard would counter it. Anything Tom did, Alphard would roll his eyes in the background. Alphard should be thankful he was a Black, because if he wasn't, Tom couldn't promise what might've happened to the boy then.

It was a miracle that Rookwood, Alphard's best friend, was not as disobedient as he was. In fact, the two of them were quite different. Alphard was quiet and reserved, and Rookwood liked to express himself by talking. Alphard didn't follow instructions, and while Rookwood wasn't as devoted as neither Elladora nor Mulciber, he was still a good follower who listened to what he was told.

If Tom ever lost Alphard, however, he would undoubtedly lose Rookwood as well. And to lose two followers just would not do; he would have to start recruiting _females_ after that, which he was trying to avoid. Females, especially those like Druella, would be too distracted by his looks to be of any importance. Tom was trying to find a way to invite Elladora without Druella finding out, but the former would surely brag.

The hall fell silent as Dippet cleared his throat loudly. A stupid grin was on his face as he surveyed his students with a loving look. "Good morning!" He cried out, clapping his hands together. The other houses, Tom realized, were watching him with admiration written on their faces. The Slytherin table merely looked bored. Tom snuck a glance at Hermione and saw that she was determinedly not meeting anyone's eyes. Elladora had been right. She was weak, fragile and submissive; she would be easy to manipulate.

However, she was still a mudblood. He would not go anywhere near her unless he absolutely had to. He had to keep up his image in the Head dormitory yesterday, but he wondered why he seduced her. A simple smile would've done, but he had even _touched _her. He had gotten mudblood filth on his hands. He had washed his hands for _hours_ afterwards, trying to get it off.

"I am here today to announce that Augusta Longbottom has decided to step down from the Head Girl position because of personal reasons." Many eyes swiveled towards her, and the girl buried her head in her hands, thoroughly humiliated. Hermione's eyes shot towards Dippet; she obviously had not been expecting him to make it public. "You were a great Head Girl, Mrs. Longbottom. Hogwarts will miss you."

There was a mixture of responses from this. Many of the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors were sincere, but the Ravenclaws who had been sent in to detention by her cheered. The Slytherins, of course, did everything in their power to make sure a Gryffindor felt bad, and one person even threw a goblet of pumpkin juice at her. Dippet frowned; obviously, this had not been the reaction he had anticipated. Augusta got up and ran out of the Hall. Hermione's expression grew guilty and she looked down.

"Please check on Miss Longbottom to make sure she's alright," Dippet said, and two of her friends zoomed out of the Great Hall. "Now, as you now know, we were in a need for a new Head Girl to replace Miss Longbottom. Therefore, we are pleased to announce Miss Hermione Granger, who arrived here yesterday, as the new Head Girl."

Silence met his statement, and Hermione ducked her head. Even Charlus and Cedrella were gaping. Druella sniffed, unamused. "They're actually going through with this?" A frown appeared on her face. "I thought this was all a joke."

Apparently, the rest of the students thought so as well and whispers arose in the Hall. No one knew who Hermione was, though, so they looked around blindly. Dippet chose to make things worse by cheerfully announcing, "Miss Granger, please stand up."

If Hermione looked mortified before, that was nothing compared to what she looked like now. She shook her head, but the look Dippet gave her clearly said that no argument was acceptable. She stood up shakily, obviously not enjoying the amount of attention she was receiving.

Dippet was oblivious to the whispers and instead smiled at Hermione kindly. "Would you like to say a few things?" Hermione shook her head. "Don't be shy now, dear. Just give us a couple of words."

Hermione's face was completely red. Mulciber snickered, while Goyle rolled his eyes. Elladora was clapping gleefully, and muttered something that sounded like '_serves her right_' under her breath. Rockwood merely picked at his food some more, but it was Alphard's reaction that worried Tom. Well, Alphard in general worried him, but this Alphard had a look of pity and sympathy. He could not have his Knights become Gryffindor sympathizing pussies.

"Um." She squeaked, her voice ten octaves higher than it normally was. "I…I'm Hermione Granger, and I'll be your new Head Gi…Gi…" she gave up, and there were snickers. "Thank you." She sat down quickly, and Charlus patted her hand reassuringly.

"Thank you, Miss Granger, for your wisdom." Tom nearly laughed then, but composed himself. Others, however, seemed to have less luck, and soon the entire hall was laughing at Dippet, and at Hermione. Hermione herself looked at Dippet and finally seemed to get the notion that he was the stupidest idiot alive. Though, Dippet had his own uses. Tom thought back about the incident with Hagrid. If _Dumbledore_ had been the headmaster, he most certainly would've been rotting in Azkaban. Even with him as a transfiguration teacher, he had almost been caught.

Dippet sat back down, and chatters resumed in the Hall. Tom noticed that many people were sneaking glances at Hermione, though she was trying to ignore all of them and make conversation with Cedrella and Charlus. A couple people, however, were getting up and going over to the Gryffindor table to talk to their new Head Girl.

"Would you look at that?" Mulciber sneered. "Dippet probably thinks they're promoting house unity. He's a fucking retard."

"Language," Druella reprimanded, glancing back at Tom. He merely shot her a polite smile, and she nearly melted in to his lap. She cast a triumphant glance at Elladora, but the latter was busy screeching about something with Mulciber.

"Potter and Weasley," Goyle spat out, his eyes burning. Goyle, Tom knew, always felt left out of their conversations, so he often brought in the topic of blood status to make himself seem knowledgeable. "Blood traitors are almost as bad as mudbloods."

"They're all scum," Elladora declared, flicking her hair over her shoulders. Druella glanced worriedly at Tom again, and he mentally scoffed her. If she thought that he couldn't even deal with the word 'scum,' she clearly was babying him. "My mother has sent a letter to Dippet to request that all mudbloods and blood traitors be removed from Hogwarts, but unfortunately Dumbledore's presence prevented that from ever happening."

"Really?" Mulciber looked at Elladora, for once his face not in a sneer. The girl winked back seductively. The two of them had been at it for years, but from what Tom knew, had never acted on it. If they ever did, their combined forces were enough to make anyone tremble. They both had a knack for blood and torture and were both slightly touched in the head. If Tom did not have the two of them around, his little group would seem very _normal. _And that simply would not do.

"Maybe if your parents protest as well, Mulciber, they'll listen," Elladora drawled. "After all, Dumbledore is only that strong."

That was where Elladora was wrong. Dumbledore was strong, and he had more power than anyone would've guessed. Not only was he powerful and physically unable to be beaten whenever Tom confronted him with a wand, but he was also the most manipulative bastard on earth. Anything Tom did, Dumbledore used it against him. Dumbledore had never liked him before, but after the Chamber incident, he had devoted the rest of his life to see Tom behind the bars.

Alphard stood up suddenly and began packing his things. "Where are you going?" Goyle asked, stuffing another sausage in his mouth. Alphard traded a wordless glance with Rookwood, who stood up as well without questioning his friend.

"Classes." Alphard said simply. "I don't want to be late."

"You're sounding like Tom now," Mulciber sniggered. Tom kept his face carefully blank at the unflattering comparison. Alphard seemed to think the same, as he glanced at Tom before turning away. "There's still a half hour before classes start."

"We can't all be late." Alphard said, and then tugged on Rookwood's arm. "Let's go." The two of them headed out of the Great Hall; Tom's eyes were tracking their every move until they disappeared behind the big doors.

It wasn't until they were gone did Tom realize that the new Head Girl had left as well.

ஐ

Hermione Granger stood in front of her potions classroom, trying to resist the strong urge to bite on her fingernails.

She had mixed feelings about the breakfast. The bad part was of course when Dippet placed on the spotlight on her. Words of wisdom! She felt like he was mocking her.

On the bright side, she had met Charlus Potter and Cedrella Weasley, and she had warmed up to both of them. Charlus seemed to be a natural jokester, and with his brown hair messy and all over the place, Hermione could see that he was quite popular with the girls. Cedrella was a little too girly for her taste, going on and on about shopping. She was nice, though, and she smiled a lot.

Hermione also learned that they both played Quidditch. When she asked what Quidditch was, Charlus had mock fainted and then proceeded to ask which planet she was from. Remembering the cover story Dumbledore had made her memorize, she announced that she was from Australia, and then realized that hadn't been the question. It had caused the two of them to start interrogating her, and she tried to recall everything that Dumbledore had told her. She finally excused herself when Charlus switched the topic to Quidditch, saying that she had to use the bathroom.

She immediately got lost and wandered around aimlessly. She was not particularly worried; after all, if the castle swallowed her up, there would be no one behind who would miss her. She had originally thought that she had been a student at Hogwarts because of the nagging feeling she was feeling, but Dumbledore told her that there had not been one student who dropped out over the years.

Why did Hogwarts feel so familiar then?

She was eventually saved by an intimidating, but nice caretaker who went by the name of Apollyon Pringle. Pringle told her the directions to all of her classes, then told her to approach him if she ever had any questions. And then he was gone, and Hermione was left standing awkwardly in front of the potions room. It was locked, and she knocked multiple times, but there was no answer.

"Hello," There was a voice behind her and she jumped up, and then scrambled away instinctively. Her books tumbled out of her bag and on to the floor. Hermione looked at the cause of the sound. There were two boys; one had black hair parted to one side, his eyes dark and his expression serious. The other had brown hair and hazel eyes, though there was a frown on his face as he eyed her.

"Um. Hi." She bent down to pick up the books, her face burning with embarrassment. To her surprise, the black haired boy bent down and helped to pick them up. His friend eyed him with confusion, but made no move to help them. Hermione was bewildered; based on his robes, he was a Slytherin. Wasn't there an unwritten rule against a Slytherin helping a Gryffindor? Maybe he hadn't noticed her robe color yet.

"I'm a Gryffindor," she declared when he handed her her books. His friend sniggered in the background.

"I know," was all the boy simply said as he stood up, dusting himself off.

"And a mudblood." The other boy suggested helpfully, and simply shrugged when his friend glared at him. "What? I'm just telling it like it is."

"Mudblood?" Hermione inquired. "Tom mentioned it, but he never told me what it meant."

"Met Tom already, have you?" The black haired boy said offhandedly, leaning on the opposite wall. "Looks as if he wasted no time with the name calling."

Hermione felt a sudden responsibility to defend Tom. "He's nice," she argued. "And I can handle being called a mudblood. There's nothing wrong with it."

The brown haired boy looked at his friend. "Is she stupid or what?"

The other one ignored him and looked at Hermione, as if sizing her up. Hermione crossed her hands in front of her chest and scowled at him. She seemed to pass his test, because he gave her a rare smile.

"My name is Alphard Black," he introduced himself smoothly. While it was not as melodious as Tom's was, it was still quite nice to listen to. His friend blinked stupidly at him, no doubt wondering why a Slytherin was making small talk with a Gryffindor. "It's nice to meet you, Hermione Granger."

Hermione jumped. "How do you know my name?"

Alphard raised an eyebrow. "Breakfast? With Dippet?" Hermione groaned. "You gave quite the introduction. I think Dippet summed it up quite well. Words of wisdom indeed."

"Don't mock me," Hermione said hotly.

"I never said I was."

His friend anxiously tugged on his robe and cast a nervous glance down the hallway, a look of fear etched on his face. "Alphard," he whispered furiously, giving his friend a warning glance. "If Tom sees you—"

"You are free to leave, Evan," Alphard said offhandedly. "If you're scared of Tom, by any means, leave. I'm not forcing you to stay here. As for Tom, he doesn't scare me."

"He should," the boy muttered under his breath, but didn't leave. Instead, he settled on glaring at Hermione, as if this was all her fault. Then, he sighed, and seemed to come with some sort of agreement with himself, because he said, "I'm Evan Rookwood."

Hermione blinked. She had not been expecting him to talk, and she had thought that whenever he did, he would spew insults at her. "Erm. It's nice to meet you."

Rookwood looked at Alphard. "Not very Head Girl like material, is she?"

"Give her a break. She just got here."

Just then, Tom and another girl rounded the corner. Rookwood jumped five feet, and instinctively moved to step away from Hermione. Alphard shot him a disgusted look and he stopped in his tracks and looked sheepishly at the ground. Hermione, however, got the point and helpfully slid away from the two of them. Rookwood shot her an appreciative look that disappeared as soon as Tom turned towards him. She didn't understand what this whole mudblood business was, but it was apparently very serious.

"There you two are," the girl giggled as she clung to Tom's arm. Hermione's eyebrows shot up; wasn't it just yesterday that Tom was snogging Augusta? So this was who Tom really was. She was foolish to think that she was special, and he spent an extra effort to seduce her. He probably did that to everyone, and the way he had recoiled when he called her a mudblood meant that he really wasn't as nice as she made him to be.

By the way he was not talking to her, she could see that her first impression of Tom Riddle was quite off. Hermione sighed and drifted over to the corner, trying but failing not to eavesdrop on their conversation.

"Druella," Alphard said greeted, raising an eyebrow as Hermione slunk away, but thankfully made no comment about it. "I thought you hated to come to class early."

"I do." The girl was really cheerful and happy, looking more like someone who belonged in Hufflepuff. Though, Hermione thought, it was this train of thought that led to all these house stereotypes. "Though I wanted to accompany Tom. He might've gotten lost in the corridors. There's dangerous things lurking around,"

"Yes, there are," Alphard said, and if Hermione wasn't mistaken, she saw him glance pointedly at Tom. The latter merely raised his eyebrow, but didn't say anything. However, Hermione didn't miss the way his fists clenched up at Alphard's statement.

Rookwood, quickly sensing Tom's displeasure, hastily cut in and said, "Druella, have you finally decided to try out for the Quidditch team? We need your skills."

Again, the word Quidditch had been mentioned. From the clues she was gathering, it was some type of sport. Somehow, she couldn't see a girl like Druella play any sport. Neither could she, as the girl shook her head and bit her lip. "No, I'd hate to drag the team down."

"Rubbish," Rookwood waved her off. "We've been in need of a seeker ever since this idiot right here," he clapped Alphard on the back, the latter doing his best to ignore his friend. "Decided to fall off a broom. Rather idiotic, if you ask me."

"I don't know why I listened to you," Alphard mumbled. "I broke three bones just because you had the stupid idea of making me get on a broom." Hermione stared. A _broom_? Wouldn't that be painful as well as awkward?

Before Rookwood could retort, Tom cut in, a sickening sweet smile on his face. "That's hardly Evan's fault," he said. "He couldn't have known you were so clumsy."

Hermione frowned at him, though she knew he couldn't see her in her little corner. Alphard looked at him, but wisely decided to keep his mouth shut. There was a tension in the air that no one missed, while Tom kept that ridiculous looking grin plastered on his face.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief when a plump looking man came around the corner with his bag. His face immediately lit up as he took in the group. "Tom!" He crooned, reaching his hand out to shake the Head Boy's. Druella reluctantly let go if his arm to let him do so, but Tom paid her no mind.

"Professor Slughorn!" With a jolt, Hermione realized she was looking at the "Sluggy" that Tom had been talking about, the same Professor that had been given the task of telling Augusta that she no longer had her Head Girl position. "How was your summer?"

"Very nice, very nice. Thank you for asking, m'boy," he unlocked the room and opened it for all of them. Druella was the first to step inside, with Tom following her. Rookwood was next, though Alphard glanced back at as if saying, '_what are you waiting for_?' Hermione waved him ahead, but he didn't move, so she eventually gave up and followed him inside.

It didn't take very long for Slughorn to notice her. "Our new Head Girl!" He announced, and Hermione wanted to cry as he drew attention to her once more. Tom's expression was still arranged in a polite smile, but his eyes were hard. Nothing of what he had shown last night remained. It really had all been an act. Well, he wasn't going to fool her twice. "Welcome, welcome!"

Slughorn seemed to have a knack of repeating things twice. "It's nice to meet you, Professor," she said as earnestly as she could with Tom drilling holes in her head. "I'm looking forward to being in your class."

"The pleasure is mine," Slughorn said as the other students started trickling in to the room. "Now, why are you all just standing there? Let's get you some seats."

Five minutes later, Hermione found out, to her dismay, that Slughorn had placed her right next to Tom. She had protested. She had argued, but Slughorn said something about how Tom was a model student who could help her get used to how things worked here. Also, he pointed out that the Head Boy and Head Girl ought to work together. Tom remained silent, no doubt to maintain his reputation, but his eyes held the same feelings that she did.

Alphard looked like he wanted to intervene, but thought better of it. Rookwood, clearly noticing the tension oozing out of the three of them, even shot Hermione an apologetic look when Tom turned around. It seemed like he wasn't as bad as she originally thought, though he was obviously scared of Tom.

"Hey, you," It was Druella, and Hermione was both surprised and not surprised at the same time to see that she was beaming. All the other Slytherins had seemed to be at least slightly awkward and rude when talking to her because of her blood status, but Druella seemed accepting. If it hadn't been for her robe color, Hermione really would've thought that she was in a different house. "Want to switch seats?"

Hermione followed her gaze over to where Druella's stuff was. It was next to Rookwood, who, though was still rather uncomfortable, would beat this new Tom any day. Hermione nodded and stood up, and a look of joy lit up on Druella's face as she zoomed over to get her stuff. Tom's mood seemed to lighten up considerably, and she turned away so he couldn't see her scowl.

Rookwood's legs were propped up on the table, as he talked with Alphard, who was sitting in front of him. Alphard raised an eyebrow when Hermione dropped her stuff down, but Rookwood paled considerably and glanced over at Tom. Whatever he was afraid of, he never saw. Tom had his arms around Druella's waist and the two of them were very close. Rookwood sighed and turned away from them.

"How much did Druella offer this time to switch seats?" Alphard asked. "She offered me a hundred galleons, and to spend the night with me." He made a face. "I declined, of course, and simply got up and moved."

"Druella asked that?"

"Yeah. You think she's sweet, right?" Alphard sighed. "Wait until she feels like her position with Tom is threatened. She'll do anything possible to get rid of you." He glanced over at her. "She's quite crafty with her potions. She wasn't sorted in to Slytherin by mistake."

"She's just like your sister then," Rookwood said, and Hermione noticed that he was determinedly not looking at her. Hermione sighed and looked over at Tom, who had Druella in his lap. Hermione didn't even know why she bothered to switch seats; Tom was obviously going to be her seat. Not that she minded; she would rather not sit next to them and listen to their lovesick blabbing.

"No one," Alphard said quietly. "Is like my sister." Rookwood seemed to flinch back and nodded quietly, but Alphard paid him no mind. It didn't take a genius to know that he wasn't fond of his sister. But then again, Alphard didn't seem to like a lot of people, so that wasn't much to go on.

"Would you like to switch seats?" She asked politely. She knew Rookwood was uncomfortable with sitting with her, and she herself didn't really mind who she sat with. Alphard, however, shook his head, much to the displeasure of Rookwood.

Hermione wondered what exactly Slughorn was doing that was taking him so long. All the other students had arrived, and most of them were watching Tom and Druella flirting with each other. It seemed as if snogging was unacceptable for Tom to do in public, but flirting was okay.

She also wondered what happened with the charming boy that had greeted her in her room last night. Had it all been an act? Or was this display, flirting with Druella and ignoring Hermione, that was a display? Dippet had mentioned that Tom was extraordinarily kind hearted. Didn't that mean he was nice to everyone?

"What is a mudblood?" Hermione questioned, causing both Rookwood's and Alphard's eyes to snap towards her. She shrugged. "It has come up a lot. I'm curious."

Alphard sighed. "Do you know what a muggle is?" Hermione nodded. "Mudblood is a meaner and more insulting way to call someone a muggle. It basically means that that person has dirty blood."

Hermione blinked. "That's not so bad."

Rookwood seemed to momentarily forget that he wasn't speaking to her. "That's not so bad?" She simply shrugged. It was just a little name calling. It couldn't hurt anyone. And from the way the Slytherins had been talking about it, it was almost as if it were a death sentence of some sort.

Before Rookwood could say anything, Slughorn came back in to the room and called for everyone's attention. Hermione zoned out after that. It was really annoying to not all the answers, so she guessed that in her past life, she was a know it all. Unfortunately, her recent memory loss seemed to have wiped out all her knowledge as well, so she was sure that she had the intelligent of an ant. There was a nagging feeling every time her mind drew blanks, though, so a visit to the library was necessary.

Slughorn mentioned a name of a potion, and then set them off to work. Rookwood followed Alphard over the cabinet, where the two of them were arguing over something. Hermione smiled as Rookwood swatted at Alphard, who gave him a small smile. It was clear that the two of them were extremely close, and Hermione found herself wondering if there was someone in her old life who was as friendly with her as they were.

Speaking of friends…Hermione found herself glancing at Tom. He already had the materials at his desk, and he was reading the instructions carefully. Druella didn't seem to mind that he was hogging the whole thing, and instead sat quietly and observed him with a smile on her face. Slughorn frowned at her, and then at Hermione, when he noticed the seat change, but thankfully said nothing about it.

Tom was quite a good student though. Hermione watched him as he carefully read the instructions and chopped the ingredients with precision. Whenever he gave Druella a task, it was always small and easy, giving the girl little room to mess up. He was also efficient with his work; he would be cutting roots while he was waiting for his cauldron to heat up. By the time Rookwood and Alphard came back, Tom was already well in to his potion.

Well. She couldn't lose to him.

Hermione snatched Rookwood's ingredients as soon as he sat down, and a look of surprise crossed his face. She started reading from his book, following the instructions as she added a bit of wolfsbane. Slughorn came over to inform Alphard that since his seat partner had requested to drop the class, he would be working with the two of them. Alphard nodded, but Hermione was too busy working to notice.

After about five minutes, Hermione was waiting for the cauldron to cool down in order to proceed to the next step. It was working well so far, though; the potion was the exact grayish color that the book indicated. While she sat back to admire her work, she noticed that Rookwood had been very silent, and she suddenly realized what she had done.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. Alphard raised an eyebrow, but she paid him no mind. "I didn't mean to get my germs on your book."

"Germs?" Rookwood asked, crossing his arms. "Are you sick?"

"No. My mudblood germs." At this, Alphard winced. "You didn't want to be seen with me because I'm a mudblood, so I inferred that you probably also don't want to touch what I've touched." She bit her lip. "Am I right? I heard someone talking about it on my way to the Great Hall."

"Stop tossing that word around," Alphard said. "You are a muggleborn, and you will address yourself as such."

Hermione ignored him and focused on Rookwood, who was looking at her with an unreadable glance. "Do you want me to wash it? Or is there some spell I can perform? Or I can buy you a new one, and have it delivered to your room?" She hoped that he wouldn't ask her to do something _too_ absurd.

Rookwood sighed, and glanced over at Tom before looking back at her. "It's fine." He said. She shrugged and did her best to avoid touching the book from then on. Alphard helped her sometimes, but Rookwood just sat back and watched. Hermione didn't mind; in fact, it was easier for her to work alone.

She snuck another glance at Tom and found out that Druella had accidently cut the roots wrong, so Tom had gone to get another set. Perfect. Now she was caught up to him. As much as she liked to work by herself, though, she knew she had no way to beat him if they worked one-on-one. She handed the roots to Alphard and said, "Can you help me cut these?"

"Finally decided to include us?" Alphard raised an eyebrow, but took the knife and the roots from her and began following the instructions.

"Sorry," she said sheepishly. "It's just…I wanted to beat Tom. That's all."

A look of incredulous passed on Rookwood's face. "You want to _beat_ Tom?" He said, as if it was the most absurd thing in the world. Maybe it was. Hermione nodded meekly. "What has Tom ever done to you?"

"Nothing," Hermione said. "It's just…I keep getting a feeling that I need to beat him, and that I need to be the first to finish." She bit her lip again. "Maybe it's a feeling from my past life? I don't know."

"Past life?" Rookwood repeated. "What are you, a cat?"

_Crap._ "Never mind." She said hastily. Dumbledore had specifically given her a cover story so not everyone would know about her special circumstances. Alphard and Rookwood both looked skeptical, but Hermione waved them off and continued on the potion. Her two partners exchanged looks, but she ignored them and continued on with her task.

Slughorn announced that class would end in five minutes, and he started to go around to survey everyone's cauldron. He shook his head at some, sighed at others, and then he reached Tom. His face broke out in to a huge grin. "Perfect, as usual!" He winked at Druella, who giggled. "Excellent work, m'boy. Ten points to Slytherin."

"Thank you, Professor," Tom said politely, an earnest look of gratitude on his face. Hermione had to admit, he was a really good actor. He had to be acting, didn't he? How could someone who was so polite to everyone be so rude to a muggleborn who he had just met? And he had been so polite to her in her room yesterday as well. He hadn't needed to pretend then. What had she done between then and now that had got him to change his mind about her so much?

ஐ

"Perfect, as usual! Excellent work, m'boy. Ten points to Slytherin."

Those words meant almost nothing to him, after hearing them for seven years. However, he plastered a fake smile on his face, one that fooled every teacher but Dumbledore, and said, "Thank you, Professor."

Slughorn beamed and walked away, and Tom quickly filled a small vial with the liquid from the cauldron. "Did you see that?" Druella asked excitedly. "He absolutely loves you."

Druella was actually okay to keep around. While she lacked a violent streak unless his wellbeing was in danger, and she giggled a little too much for his liking, she was a gossip mill. He could find out what others were doing without having to do anything; Druella would do it for him.

"What's not to love?" Tom asked arrogantly, and Druella giggled. Before she had a chance to respond, however, there a large noise on the other side of the room.

Everyone turned to see what the commotion was. Slughorn was standing in front of Hermione's desk, looking down as if he spotted gold. "Would you look at that!" He said proudly. "Who says Gryffindors and Slytherins can't work together? This is a work of art! This is perfection!"

Tom frowned. Slughorn was never so excited about a student's potion that wasn't his. For the professor to react like this must've meant that it was on the same level as his. A mudblood, who lost all her memories, on the same level as _him_? He could feel anger flow through his body, but he hastily put on a charming smile when Druella looked at him worriedly, having felt him tense up.

Slughorn was still talking. "Excellent. Twenty points to Slytherin and Gryffindor apiece." Tom felt a scowl appear on his face. They earned more points than _he_ did? Since when did Slughorn award more points to someone else? He clenched his hands in to tight fists.

"I knew Albus didn't make you Head Girl for no reason," Slughorn winked down at Hermione, who looked away modestly. "I think you may be as good as Tom! Tom, would you look at this?" To his displeasure, Slughorn turned and grinned at him. "Her potion is as good as yours!"

Tom did not appreciate the comparison. Neither, apparently, did Hermione as she quickly steered the conversation in to safer territory. "It's not my potion, sir," she said politely. "Alphard and Evan did a lot of the work as well."

Rookwood looked surprised that she even credited him, and Tom saw him give Hermione a small smile. Now even Rookwood was falling under her spell? He'd have to put a stop to it immediately.

Slughorn dismissed them, and Tom saw the three of them leave together. Hermione was doing most of the talking, but he didn't miss the look on both of their faces. It was obviously not a look of hatred, even though that _should_'_ve_ been the only look on their face. He turned towards Druella, who was obviously waiting for him. "Go on," he told her as politely as he could with all the anger coursing through his veins. "I'll catch up to you later."

Druella seemed reluctant, but she nodded and headed off the other way. Now that she was gone, he went up to the trio, snarling. They turned around as soon as he strolled up, and he was pleased to see that Rookwood immediately looked terrified. Alphard was still Alphard, a look of wary on his face. As for Hermione, the lovesick look had vanished and now her face was completely void of emotion.

Had she found out he had been acting already? It usually took girls longer to do so. Druella had had seven years and she still hadn't been able to realize. Or maybe Alphard told her. Tom wouldn't put it past him.

"Hello," he said pleasantly, looking at Hermione. She regarded him back curiously, not saying anything. "May I have a word with Alphard and Evan, please?"

Hermione looked at him, and then took off down the corridor without another word. Evan gulped and watch her leave. Well, it wasn't like her presence here could do much to help him anyway; he could knock out that mudblood without even having to lift a finger.

Tom jerked his head towards the nearest classroom, telling them to get in. Alphard looked like he was going to refuse, but Rookwood dragged him inside. Tom looked around to make sure that the hallway was empty before entering the room, locking it behind him and placing a silencing spell on the room.

"My Lord," Rookwood immediately fell to the ground before him. Alphard, though he clearly did not want to, got down on the ground as well, but did not bow. "Please forgive us for our—"

Tom did not give him a chance to finish his talking. He sent a cruciatus and watched as he writhed around, his screams filling the air. Alphard had paled and closed his eyes as he always did when Rookwood was punished, and took deep breaths as if to calm himself.

Tom released the boy from the curse, and Rookwood lay panting heavily on the floor. Alphard reached out to touch his hand reassuringly, but his hand was kicked away by Tom. Alphard glared up at him, and Tom only laughed.

"Bow before me, Alphard," he hissed. "Or we'll go for another round. How much more do you think Rookwood can take?" He glanced down at the boy who was crying pitilessly.

Alphard's eyes hardened with hatred, but he did what he was asked to do and bent over, touching his nose to the ground. The sight was satisfying, but not satisfying enough. "Lick my boots," he commanded. Alphard looked at him in disgust, and then looked over at Rookwood, who had managed to drag himself to sitting position and was looking at his friend with a worried expression. Gritting his teeth, Alphard dragged himself forward and bent his head down to touch his boots.

Without warning, Tom sent a cruciatus at him and he too writhed on the ground. Rookwood gasped out, but he was clearly in no condition to help. Tom watched sadistically, though it bothered him that Alphard was silent. Alphard never screamed when he was placed under the cruciatus, something that annoyed Tom immensely. He hated how Alphard had so much control over his own body.

There were a dozen of ways he knew of that could intensify the pain tenfold, but class would be starting soon and he didn't want the teachers to start getting suspicious. He quickly ended the curses, and Alphard slumped to the ground, though he clearly had enough energy to still glare at him.

"I advise you not tell anyone about our little meeting," he said softly, his eyes glinting in the darkness. Rookwood flinched slightly as Tom's eyes wandered over to his, and then back to Alphard. "You know what will happen if you do."

Turning around, he removed the charm on the door and opened it. Just as he was about to step outside, he heard Alphard yell at his back, "This is about Hermione, isn't it? You're jealous that we were awarded more points than you, and that Slughorn said that she was as good as you."

Tom gritted his teeth and then turned around and sent another cruciatus at Alphard. The soft gasps that Rookwood were making, '_no, no, no_' was enough to inform Tom that he was on target. Ten seconds later, he ended the curse with a swipe of his wand and then slammed the door behind him without ever looking back.

* * *

Someone's got quite the temper...


	3. Never feel sorry for the enemy

**Author's Note: **Holy crapioly, I haven't updated this in four months. Time sure flies when you're doing absolutely nothing.

So I've been skittering around GD, as usual. I don't think I'm in the mood to write 10,000 word chapters. It took me a lot of effort just to write a 7,500 word chapter here, so I suppose GD is on hold for now, because I actually need to write an outline for each chapter for that. But I haven't given up on it yet, so don't give up on it either.

If you want to read some other pointless stuff, though, I have published a few other fics. For AU, read **Mistress of Halloween** (completed) or **Penguins of Azkaban** (WIP) For a little, (hopefully) more somber oneshot, read **Two Sides of a Magnet.** (shamelessly pimping my own stories)

Thanks for reviewing, guys! (hopefully you'll come back and review again after this loooong wait.)

Mighty Ruler of Gummi Bears, TheEscapeFromReality, lalyta8, LK-HoGwArTs-hEaDgIrL, tHevoLtuRi'SdARkpRiNceSS, Impalpable Ash, lizzywithfire, Zelma Kallas, Guest, Dolores isn't here, Guest, IamBellatrixLieutenantofVold y, smileylol, Kirtash R

Unbeta'ed, as usual, because all of my betas ran away and the only one I have left is currently working on something else. Sobsob. Poor me.

Last minute note: It's twelve. I'm tired. I didn't get a chance to really read it over, so don't yell at me. I'll fix it tomorrow if I get complaints.

* * *

"I really don't want to do this,"

"Oh, come on, Hermione, I didn't think you were one to be _scared_," Cedrella teased as she dragged Hermione to the fields, Charlus trailing behind both of them. Just looking at the field, and the brooms that Charlus carried, made Hermione want to run in the opposite direction.

She didn't know how they had roped her into doing this. She had managed to get through a week of school and had been planning to use her weekend wisely by spending much of it in the library. While she did quite well in all of her classes—to the amazement of all her classmates, though to the anger of some—she felt as if there was still much she could do to properly catch up.

However, as soon as she woke up, Cedrella immediately told her to change. When she went to look for her robes, Cedrella merely giggled and shook her head, pointing to the Quidditch robes. It was then that Hermione discovered that the girl had hid all her normal clothing, only promising to return them once they went flying with her.

She tried to warn them that she could not fly. She still couldn't remember anything about her previous life, but did not think she could've possibly have been interested in Quidditch. She was sure that though she had forgotten about everything else, she had clearly not forgotten about her fear of heights. And even the _thought_ of riding a broom so high up in the air made her queasy.

However, she reminded herself that this was for the sake of her books. She would be able to go to the library right after she finished. Cedrella told her she had to fly in order to earn her robes back, but she had not specified the amount of time she had to remain in the air. She would simply go up and then come back down.

"Don't worry, it'll be fun," Charlus said, catching the worried look on her face. However, instead of reassuring her, it only made her feel more nervous. She had seen Charlus fly before, and his version of fun involved reckless loops in the air and often someone accidentally getting hurt when he flew too closely to the ground. Hermione could not even count how many times he had flew into a tree while trying to impress Cedrella.

It was amazing that the two of them could not see it yet. Hermione had barely met them when she figured it out. Charlus clearly loved Cedrella, and the girl herself had came to Hermione and admitted it outright that she was in love with Charlus Potter. Hermione's only advice was for Cedrella to tell him, but judging by the fact that they were still standing a respectable distance from each other, neither of them had said a word.

"It's a pretty nice day to be out here flying." Charlus commented, using a hand to shield his eyes against the rising sun. "The weather is good, and the air isn't too humid." His eyes hardened when they noticed a couple of flying figures in the far end of the field. "Of course, all of that is ruined because we have to share the field with Slytherins."

Hermione's head immediately swung upwards. In the past week, she had rarely talked to any of the Slytherins anymore. There had been something that happened on the first day, after she left Rookwood and Alphard behind. The next time she saw them, Alphard had a limp in his step. Tom, of course, looked immensely smug, so it wasn't terribly hard to infer what had happened. Rookwood, for the most part, ignored her, and she got the hint and stayed away from them. She wasn't helping them by continuing to talk to them when Tom so obviously did not approve of it.

She wondered why Tom had so much power over them, though. She tried to steer clear of him, though they ran into each other sometimes in the Head common room. In each event, his mood often determined how he treated her. If he was content, it would give her a smirk that made her feel uncomfortable, which only led to his amusement. If he was upset, he would glare at her before stomping up to his room and slamming the door. Hermione was thankful that he hadn't tried to curse her yet, though she had caught his hand drifting towards his pocket several times. She learned to observe what times he was in the common room, and steered clear of it then.

"Don't worry about them; they're nothing but a bunch of big bullies," Cedrella said, taking the look on Hermione's face as a look of worry. "Charlus will take care of them. He flies so fast that not even the Slytherin can catch up to him. If they start bothering you, just yell for him and he'll be over in a heartbeat."

There was a look of love in Cedrella's eyes, and Hermione smiled gently at her. She almost forgave the girl for dragging her out to fly. _Almost_, but not entirely. She eyed the brooms and sighed, though the look on Charlus' face clearly said that there was no room for argument. She, however, made no move to take the broom from him and in the end he just shoved it in her hands and told her how to take off.

Hermione felt rather foolish as she mounted the broom. It felt so foreign, and she was debating about whether or not to break the broom to get herself out of it. However, before she could do it, Cedrella did something to the broom. It immediately shot up and Hermione screamed as it shot upwards, taking her into the sky.

Even after the broom stopped its ascent, Hermione still sat there screaming her head off. Cedrella had flew over to try to calm her down multiple times, while Charlus just sat in the background and laughed. Eventually, Cedrella gave up and simply sat next to her to make sure she wouldn't fall off his broom, while Charlus flew around like a lunatic. There were multiple times were he had come very close to knocking her off her broom, which just brought forth another round of screaming.

Finally, Cedrella grew bored of her and zoomed after Charlus, the two of them playing a game of tag as they chased after each other. Hermione, who, for the most part, had finally managed to calm herself down, sat on her broom and watched her friends fly. If she forced herself not to look down, the whole experience wasn't as terrible as she had originally thought it to be.

However, she quickly retracted her earlier thought when someone suddenly appeared behind her and tapped her on the shoulder. She nearly screamed her head off.

"Shh!" It was Rookwood, and he put a finger on his lips as he glanced around nervously. However, no one had noticed the two, so he quickly turned back to Hermione. While his expression wasn't hostile, it wasn't inviting either. "Look, I need to talk to you."

Hermione nodded. She understood that it must have been pretty important for Rookwood to intentionally seek her out. "I'm listening," she told him. She inferred by the way that he was glancing around nervously that Tom must have been among the Slytherins. Somehow, the thought of Tom on a broom looked so strange in her mind that she smiled.

Rookwood stared at her weirdly before nodding. "Okay, I've noticed that you have been staying away from Alphard," Hermione blinked, but nodded. She had done that, yes, but she didn't know why he was bringing it up with her.

He suddenly looked uncomfortable, scratching the back of his head and looking everywhere but at her. Finally, he said, "But you're still talking to him."

Hermione blinked at him, before a scowl appeared on her face. Was he honestly complaining about her? "I'm sorry, but I don't think that's my fault," she snapped at him, ignoring the fact that he could easily push her off of her broom and kill her if he wanted to. "We have to work together, so I'm not going to sacrifice your grades just so you can get all of his attention."

Rookwood's face turned slightly red. "You don't know what he has to go through every time he utters a word to you," there was a pleading expression on his face. "Tom hates you. He hates everyone who does better than him. And the fact that Alphard is taking a liking in you does not sit well with Tom. He can't curse you, but he can curse Alphard. And Alphard's going to be the person Tom vents his anger on."

Hermione looked at him suspiciously. "And why can't he curse me when he can curse Alphard?" she asked. Rookwood looked away, seemingly not comfortable with answering. Hermione sighed and said, "I'm sorry about what Alphard goes through, but can't you report Tom?"

Rookwood shook his head. "No proof," he muttered under his breath. "And no one would believe us." He suddenly looked at Hermione. "Can you go get us the proof? He'll surely be expelled if there's solid evidence against him."

Hermione blinked. "You want _me_ to go get proof?" Rookwood nodded. Hermione's face morphed into an angry scowl. "Why don't you go get it yourself? If you want to do something so large, you can't ask other people to get hurt for you, just like I can't ask Alphard to get hurt for me."

"You didn't need to ask. He already is," Rookwood said softly. He spun his broom around to leave and rejoin his fellow Slytherins. "Think about it," with a slight nod that was more polite than anything, he flew away, leaving Hermione behind to feel slightly guilty about her words to him. He was only being a good friend, after all; she wouldn't be too happy if her best friend was constantly getting tortured.

It was strange, how no one saw it. No one even suspected the perfect Head Boy of being capable of performing such heinous acts. She was slightly surprised when he didn't erase her memory to remove the evidence, but perhaps he had assumed that she was new and wouldn't know how things worked around Hogwarts. Or maybe he thought that she didn't have enough evidence against him.

Whatever he thought, she was grateful that her memory was still intact. She didn't think she could deal with having her memory wiped again. She tried, during her first week at Hogwarts, to gather as much experiences as possible, to fill her empty mind with things she could think of.

"Hello, Hermione. I never thought I'd see you up here."

This time, Hermione very nearly fell off of her broom had Alphard not been there to lay a steady arm on her shoulder. She shot him a glare, which he responded by only raising his hands, not looking very concerned at all.

"Hi, Alphard," Hermione said sourly. She looked around to see if Rookwood was watching. She knew that she shouldn't care about what he said, and she shouldn't listen to his orders, but she felt guilty for causing Alphard pain. And Rookwood just wanted to ensure his friend's safety. She could respect that. However, she didn't want to just reject Alphard straight out either. "Cedrella forced me. I would happily be in the library if it were not for her."

Alphard nodded, but caught her looking around. Instantly, a worried look crossed his face. "I know Evan came to talk to you," he said quietly. "And I want you to disregard everything he said. He can be a little too overprotecting at times."

Hermione shook her head. "No, he made complete sense. He doesn't want you to get hurt, and I understand that. I'm just trying to find the nicest way to reject you and make you go away."

Alphard grinned slightly, a sight that was very rare. She had noticed that he was extremely reserved, and while it was easy to tell whether or not he was content or angry, there was never much emotion shown on his face.

"Did Evan ask you to spy on Tom?"

Hermione blinked. "How did you know?"

"I've known Evan ever since I was born. There's very little about him that I don't know," Alphard said. "And since I know him so well, I would advise you never to listen to any suggestions he has to make. He'll do anything for someone he loves, but sometimes he'll do too much," Alphard grimaced. "Evan doesn't know when to stop. He's willing to sacrifice the whole world for me, but I can't accept that."

Hermione nodded with understanding, and then glanced at him suspiciously. "Why are you and him both in Slytherin?" she asked suspiciously. "Unless the two of you have dangerous hobbies that I'm not aware of."

"_We're_ not the Slytherins you should worry about," Alphard said quietly, and it didn't take a genius to know who he was referring to. Alphard shrugged. "I'm a Black," he said, as if that explained everything. And perhaps it did. Hermione had learned enough over the past few weeks to know that there were many lines of wealthy purebloods where everyone was sorted into the same house. For example, Charlus had boasted to her that his entire family had always been and would always be in Gryffindor.

"And Rookwood?" she asked.

"He's manipulative enough to be a Slytherin," Alphard said. "As am I, for the matter. We are just less insane than everyone else. It's a good thing it isn't genetic, either, or else I would've gotten it. My sister, Elladora, is completely out of her mind."

"Perhaps it is genetic, and you're just the lucky one," Hermione pointed out. "After all, Elladora had to get it from somewhere."

Alphard shrugged. "But am I truly the lucky one? To know exactly what I'm doing and what I'm living through, but I can't do anything to stop it? At least for everyone else, they believe in the righteousness of their actions. I don't, yet I still do them."

Hermione shook her head. "There's nothing better than being able to decide what you want to do," she said softly. "There will be a point in time when you will feel grateful that you can do what you think is right."

Alphard didn't say anything else, and the two of them sat there for a while. Hermione could see Cedrella and Charlus, now both sitting on one broom, so preoccupied with each other that they hadn't noticed Hermione was conversing with a Slytherin. She could spot Tom, sitting leisurely on his broom, looking as though he didn't have a care for the world. Druella, whom Hermione had assumed was a terrible flier, flew around with ease, doing elaborate twists and turns to show off to Tom.

There were a couple of other boys there that Hermione barely recognized. There was Mulciber, who seemed to be the male version of Elladora. She had only had the misfortune of running into them once, but once was one time too many. He had tried to pour a cup of steaming hot water on her arm to see if it could burn all the way through.

Hermione's eyes drifted towards the ground, where Rookwood was standing. She couldn't see the expression on his face. Feeling slightly guilty to have immediately gone against his wishes, she nudged Alphard and motioned to his friend.

Alphard sighed. "Evan is trying to force me to study early for the midterms this year. I don't know why he bothers to ask me; he is able to pass each exam with ease while I am there merely so he doesn't look like a loner studying by himself."

Hermione smiled slightly. "Don't say that. I'm sure he enjoys your company." A frown played on her lips. "And it's never too early to study for the midterms! Why, there's so many things that could be covered on the test. I've read through the transfiguration textbook three times already, but I feel like I miss so much every time I reread it. It's a shame I can't just magically imprint it into my brain."

Alphard look at her, and then sighed. "Had our circumstances been different," he said. "Evan would be completely in love with you."

Before Hermione could respond, he gave her a short nod before he flew down to join his friend. Hermione watched as the two of bent their heads together to talk. Hermione watched as they quietly left the field, looking very much like one person. Hermione supposed that perhaps they were similar enough to merge into one.

She shifted her attention to Charlus and Cedrella, only to find them missing. She looked around, but they were gone, as if disappeared into thin air. Hermione had no doubt that they were probably in a broom closet, snogging, but she found that she didn't care that she was left behind. This meant she was free! She could get off her broom and neither of them would care because they were too busy for her.

Unfortunately, life was not that easy.

"Would you look at that? The mudblood is out by herself," It was Mulciber, and he grinned creepily at her. She tried to back away, but she realized that she was still on a broom and she didn't know how to control it; she did little more than make herself stumble off balance. If possible, the grin on Mulciber's face grew wider as he regarded her like a predator regarded its prey.

"I bet she's been riding all types of brooms since she's been here," Goyle said. Hermione didn't find it funny at all, but Mulciber laughed like it was the most hilarious thing that he had ever heard before. Goyle shot her a look of distaste. "Blood traitors make me sick, but mudbloods make me want to puke."

"Get away from me," Hermione was proud that her voice didn't waver as she guided her broom back towards the ground. The two of them followed closely behind her, though Hermione was thankful that they didn't do anything; she could do so much more if both her feet were planted on the ground.

However, that didn't mean she reached the ground gracefully. She stumbled over her own feet and ended up falling face flat on the floor, causing snickers to erupt behind her. Standing up with the little amount of dignity she had, she turned back to them and scowled.

"Don't be shy," Mulciber leered, stepping closer to her. With dismay, Hermione noticed that they were blocking the way back into the cancel. Had she been at the school for longer, she would've known how to get back in from the outside. However, she had spent much of her week indoors, so she had no idea how to get back into the castle other than the way she came from.

Hermione whipped out her wand, but it only caused the two of them to laugh at her even more. "Ooh, she's feisty," Goyle lumbered forwards, backing Hermione up so her back was almost against a tree. "I _like_ that."

"You should be honored," Mulciber drawled. "Not only one, but _two_ purebloods are wasting their time on you. You should be groveling at our feet now for giving you the privilege of being looked at by us." Hermione stared at him, but it looked like he truly believed what he was saying. "In fact, I rather like that idea," Mulciber took out his wand. "Now, get down or—"

Hermione didn't wait for him to finish. Instead she pointed her wand at him and screamed, "_Expelliarmus!_" It blasted him backwards and he fell to the ground in an ungraceful lump. Goyle looked at him, and then back to her, reaching for his wand, but Hermione beat him to it. She repeated the same spell that she had used on Mulciber, and Goyle too fell unconscious.

Hermione was breathing heavily, and then her eyes wandered to the two bodies on the floor, and then back to her wand. A sick feeling filled her; how would she explain herself for attacking two other students? She needed a believable story. She paced around, urging her mind to think faster.

"That was rather impressive."

Hermione jumped, and then closed her eyes, wishing that it was anyone but him. Tom Riddle stood in front of her, a smirk on his face as he regarded the two unconscious students on the ground. He did not seem at all concerned about them at all. Instead, all his attention was on Hermione, who wished she could just run and hide.

"I—hi Tom." She said miserably, looking at the ground. "Look, I didn't do that. You must have imagined it. I merely walked over and they were both on the ground. Do you think they're asleep?" She nudged Mulciber's head with her foot, accidentally making him eat a mouthful of sand. "They're still alive, at least,"

Tom looked very amused. "And I suppose I imagined the red light of the expelliarmus?" Hermione scowled at him, but he ignored her. "That was not too bad, I suppose. Enough power to knock them to the floor instead of merely taking their wands."

Hermione blinked at him. "Did you just _compliment_ me?"

Tom looked at her. "I suppose I did," he raised an eyebrow. "Is that concept foreign to you?"

Hermione was still staring at him. "_You_ complimented _me._"

"Yes," Tom drawled, looked a little irritated now. "Would you like me to repeat it again, mudblood, so that the words because more comprehensible in your head? Perhaps you would like them to be translated into another language, because you clearly can't understand what was being said,"

Hermione scowled. "Don't call me mudblood," she said. "It's not nice."

Tom simply rolled his eyes and decided that he was done with her. He turned around to leave, but then panic gripped Hermione. Quickly, she sprinted to catch up with him and then grabbed his arm. He looked at her, disgusted, and she quickly released it before he could curse her. He made a show of wiping his sleeve on the nearby tree.

"Please," she said, hating how she had to beg to someone like him. However, she did not want to be kicked out of Hogwarts when she had just been there for a week. She would have nowhere to go outside, and she still did not have her memory. "Can you make sure they don't talk?"

Tom glanced down at the two unconscious boys, before looking back at Hermione. "Why should I do anything for you?"

"Um," Hermione trailed off. "I'll let you call me mudblood for a week if you do?"

Tom's face consorted into an angry glower. "I do not need your permission, mudblood," he scowled at her. "I am free to call you whatever I want."

Hermione bit her lip. "But if they go and report me, then I will go tell that they were the ones who cornered me first. And there are already rumors around the professors that there's something dark going on with them, and with you," this was a complete bluff, but he seemed to buy it. He glared at her, but she continued, "It's my word against theirs. And though I haven't been at this school for long, my reputation is cleaner than theirs. And you don't want anything to trace back to you, do you?" She smiled sweetly at him, aware that she had just given herself a death sentence.

"You've got some nerve," Tom said, glaring at her. Finally, coming to no other option, he sighed and looked at the two figures on the ground. "Fine, I will have a _talk_ with them." Somehow, Hermione knew that there wasn't going to be much talking at their little meeting. Tom then swiveled his head to look at her. "As for _you_, you better stay out of my way."

"Actually, about that," she began nervously. She did not want to do this, but after looking at the way Rookwood and Alphard were together, she decided she couldn't let anything break a bond like that. "You told me on the first day that you would teach me magic. I'm going to hold you to that."

Tom was looking at her, as if deciding whether or not she was extraordinarily brave or just plain stupid. Then, he said smoothly, "You weren't so annoying the first day."

"All I did the first day was blush," she argued hotly, and Tom smirked at her. Refusing to let him faze her, she continued, "If you wanted a girl like that, you can just turn to Druella. However, for someone to teach, I am clearly the best choice." Tom raised an eyebrow, but she ignored him and continued, "I can make you think. I can challenge you and make you work for your answers."

"Don't flatter yourself," Tom snarled. She was getting more and more convinced that he was bipolar, and wondered why he didn't just choose to curse her right there. After all, his opinion of her was clearly quite low, and there was no one else to act as witness. If anything went wrong, he could always say that his followers and her had gotten into a fight and had knocked each other out.

"Sounds to me like you're flattering yourself," Hermione raised an eyebrow. "You always think you're the best at everything. What makes it so that I can't think the same thing?"

"Don't _ever_ compare me to you, mudblood," Tom whipped out his wand and pointed it at her. She was frightened now, but refused to let it show on her face. "You don't know _anything_."

"So teach me," Hermione taunted, refusing to cower at the ugly look he gave her. She smiled sweetly at him, hoping that he didn't decide to curse her. "After all, it's the Head Boy's job to help everyone in need, is it not?"

Tom stared at her for a while, his face blank. Finally, he pocketed his wand and then turned away from her, though not before saying, "Tomorrow night at nine. I will hurt you if you are late," and then he was gone.

Hermione let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Looking down at the two figures on the ground who had started the whole thing, she felt particularly vicious and kicked them in the stomach. Immediately after, she felt guilty and apologized profusely, though she knew they couldn't hear her. Stepping over them carefully, she hurried back into the castle to think about what she had just asked for.

* * *

That afternoon, she headed towards the library. She had finally gotten rid of Cedrella, who apologized every three seconds for leaving Hermione on her broom all by herself. She had told the girl that it was fine, but Cedrella felt guilty. She tried to make it up in every way possible, before Hermione finally got rid of her and sprinted towards the library.

When she got there, however, she noticed two familiar Slytherins sitting at a table together. Feeling quite like a secret agent, she quickly hid behind a stack of books. Her books could wait, she decided. She could take some to her room later. This conversation couldn't wait.

"_Toom_," she could hear Druella whine. She wondered why he kept her around; after all, he had a short temper. She couldn't believe that he could endure Druella for so long when he couldn't even talk to Hermione without insulting her. But then again, their blood statuses were years apart, so she supposed that it _did_ make a difference to him. "Why are you always in the library?"

"There is much to learn," Tom said smoothly, his voice void of any anger. Hermione scowled at no one in particular; Tom could show his complete bastard self and Hermione had no doubt that Druella would still follow him around like a lost puppy.

"But you're just doing homework!" Druella pointed out. "We can do homework in my room. Or your room, if you prefer more privacy," Hermione could almost see the seductive look the girl gave Tom, and she almost gagged.

"Granger lives there too," Tom said. Hermione noticed that he took extra care not to call her a mudblood. Alphard had mentioned that Tom made himself to be the innocent little victim in Druella's mind. Hermione wondered why he even bothered; was the girl valuable enough that he had to conceal his true self?

"Oh, Hermione? I think she's really nice," Druella said. Hermione felt a rush of gratitude towards this girl who had never spoken more than a couple words to her. Alphard had warned her that this would all disappear if she tried to take Tom away from her. However, Hermione had no plans to do so, and she didn't mind this unexpected kindness. "Maybe I should say hi to her or something."

"Perhaps," was all Tom said, going back to scribbling on his parchment. There was a couple moments of silent, where no one said anything. Then, Tom asked Druella to get a book for him. The girl nearly peed herself trying to get it fast enough.

"Oh, Hermione!" Hermione cursed herself for not getting out of the way fast enough. Druella smiled kindly at her, and without waiting for consent, dragged her back to the table. Tom looked up as the two girls approached, and a small smirk played on his lips. Hermione knew it was fake and proceeded to stick her tongue out when Druella wasn't looking. Tom looked slightly surprised, before smirking in amusement for real.

Druella took her seat next to Tom, and Hermione, feeling rather foolish, chose a seat opposite of him. Hermione glanced over at his paper and saw that he was working on transfiguration. "I already finished that this morning," she proclaimed.

Tom merely raised his eyebrows, but Druella immediately rushed to his defense.

"He was busy all morning!" Druella said, frowning slightly. "Tom's very close friends with both Alphard and Evan, have you met them?" Not waiting for Hermione to respond, she continued, "They were together in his room all morning. You can't blame him for not doing his homework."

Hermione grimaced. The fact that the three of them were in a room together could only mean trouble. She glanced over at Tom, who seemed to be very amused with her sudden realization. Feeling very sorry for the two Slytherin boys, Hermione sent a retaliation kick at Tom's foot. His smug look slid off his face, but there was nothing he could do with Druella watching.

Hermione wondered if there was something particularly special about Druella. She seemed like a nice sort of girl, but she knew that Tom didn't care particularly about that. She knew he kept Alphard around because he was known for being quite wealthy. And while Druella came from a pureblood family, it wasn't as well known as Elladora's family.

Perhaps, he was in love with her?" Hermione almost laughed at her absurd thought. If Tom loved her, Druella would have a field day. But from what she had seen so far, Tom was incapable of love. He was probably even unable to care at all.

"Tom's a very good student," Druella said, as if Hermione needed convincing. Feeling rather foolish, she merely nodded, noting the very smug look that crossed Tom's face. "He's always on top of his school work and he never slacks." She blushed slightly. "He always helps me with my schoolwork when I don't get it. He's a very talented teacher, you see,"

"We'll see about that," Hermione muttered under her breath. Tom, heard her, merely raised an eyebrow at the challenge.

She wondered if she was idiotic to let herself constantly get dragged into Tom's path. She had done a fairly decent job at avoiding him, but then she just had to invite him in, asking him to help teach her. While she was doing it partially because Rookwood had asked, and partially because of her own interest in his skill, she couldn't help but think the consequences outweighed the advantages greatly.

"So, Hermione," Druella was saying. She had a big smile on her face, and unlike Tom, her expression seemed to be genuine. However, Alphard's warning echoed in her mind. _Druella is a nice girl until you threaten her position with Tom._ She wondered if him tutoring her was considered particularly threatening to her. She didn't see how someone so sweet could turn vicious, but Alphard had warned her, so she was going to pay attention to stay on the girl's good side. "Tell us a bit about yourself,"

"I came from Australia," Hermione said, recounting her cover story. She had told it so many times to multiple people over the week that it was imprinted clearly in her mind. She could now recite it without any particular difficulty. "I was attending a wizard school there, but my parents decided to move away from Australia to see what Europe looks like,"

Druella smiled gently. "And do you like Europe so far?"

Hermione nodded. "It's very beautiful."

"Good," Druella beamed, and then launched into an autobiography, though Hermione hadn't asked. "My name is Druella Rosier and I was born an only child. It's fairly lonely, though Tom visits me sometimes during the holiday," Hermione looked at Tom, whose face gave nothing away. What were his motives? There had to be something more than an innocent visit to her house. "I was arranged to marry Mulciber, though he never shows up."

"_Mulciber_?" Hermione repeated, the image of the greasy boy popping into her mind. Hermione immediately felt bad for Druella; no matter how evil she could be, no one deserved to be forcefully married off to such a terrible boy.

"Oh, you know Mulciber already?" Druella made a face. "I like Mulciber sometimes. He's nice. But sometimes there's something wrong with him. He likes cursing people and attacking innocent people. That's not right." she frowned. "It wouldn't do for Tom to watch him either. He's so innocent. His soul is not yet scarred."

Hermione bit back a snort. If anything, Tom tortured and hurt people more than all his followers combined. However, it seemed as if Druella was oblivious as ever. Hermione sighed and nudged Tom with her foot. He retaliated by kicking her shin at full force, making her gasp out in pain.

"Hermione?" Druella said, a worried expression on her face. "Are you alright? Are you sick? Would you like to go to the hospital wing?" A thought crossed her mind. "Do you not know where the hospital wing is? I can show you if you would like."

"It's alright," Hermione said, though the pain was still there. "Just a little nuisance. Nothing much."

"Perhaps you should be more careful," Tom drawled, amusement twinkling in his eyes. "Wouldn't want to hurt the poor table with your kicking skills. It can't be good for either of you." To prove his point, he kicked her again in the exact same spot, making her want to climb over the table and slap the smug look right off his face.

Druella turned her dreamy eyes to Tom. "Oh, Tom, you're so nice and caring." She turned back to Hermione. "Tom will take you to the hospital wing," she declared, making both of them stare at her incredulously. "I'll stay here and watch your bags." Hermione opened her mouth, but the girl cut her off. "No protesting, Hermione. You can just get a bag of ice or something." There was a stubborn look on her face. "You hurt yourself. If you don't go, I'll make you go."

Five minutes of useless protesting later, Hermione and Tom found themselves in the hallway, walking towards the hospital wing. She didn't know where it was, but she told Tom he could go back to Druella and she could find her way on her own.

"What kind of Head Boy leaves a lost little puppy by itself?" Tom smirked, causing Hermione to scowl and cross her hands in front of her chest defensively.

"I am not a lost little puppy. I am a ferocious mountain lion," Hermione replied hotly, and Tom merely rolled his eyes. "Why do you listen to her, anyway? I've never seen you listen and take orders from anyone."

He was not looking at her, but she could see his fists clench slightly. "That is none of your business, Granger."

"Do you care about her?" she pressed on. She felt slightly reassured that they were in the hallway. He wouldn't be able to curse her without other people finding out. "Do you love her?"

"Don't be silly,"

"So you don't," Hermione confirmed, feeling unexpectantly cheerful. "You won't mind if I told her, would you? She'd be _devastated_ to know that the love of her life isn't head over heels for her."

"Love is for the foolish," Tom said softly. "I don't waste my time with trivial matters such as love. It is useless, and will only serve to drag me down."

"And that is why you will die alone," Hermione rolled her eyes.

Tom looked at her then, an odd glint in his eyes as he regarded her. And then, he said so quietly that Hermione thought she imagined it, "I will _never_ die." Before Hermione could question it, he walked faster, leaving Hermione to catch up to him.

"Why her?" Hermione asked when she caught up to him.

"Are you volunteering, Granger?"

"In your dreams," Hermione scowled at him, which elicited a smirk from him. "She's so…_nice_, though. She's so convinced of your innocence as well. The two of you don't go well together."

"Everyone appears nice."

"Including you."

"_Am_ I nice, Granger?" Tom asked as they rounded a corner. "After all, I am Head Boy. I help the people in need, and work to make the school a better place. I listen to questions and suggestions and I clean up the school."

"And you also curse those who are disobedient."

Tom shrugged. "Rather unfortunate waste of time, but it has to be done. The idiots will drive themselves off a cliff if I didn't choose to spend my time helping them back to the right direction."

"Ah," Hermione said dryly. "So it was out of the goodness of your heart that you recruited them. And it is out of the goodness of your heart that you curse them until obedience works their way into their systems."

Tom's lip quirked up. "I knew you were smart enough to figure it out."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You are a very delusional person, and I feel sorry for you."

Tom looked at her, and then whispered, "Never feel sorry for the enemy, Granger."

Before Hermione could respond, they arrived at the hospital wing. The nurse there ushered her inside, not listening to her when she told them it was just a little pain in her legs. They made her lie down in one of the cots and gave her medicine to help with nonexistent headaches.

However, when the nurses finally gave her some room to breathe, she looked over at the door. She was sure that Tom had followed her into the room, had heard him smirk when she was very nearly strapped to the bed. However, he simply vanished, disappeared into air, away from her reach.

* * *

Tom swept into the room, his eyes narrowed as they swept the room. He didn't bother to take his wand out; his followers were scared enough of him to obey him no matter what he had with him. Well, of course, all except one.

His eyes wandered to Alphard, who, unlike everyone else, did not immediately grovel at his feet. He had spent a fair amount of time with the boy, so he had worked some obedience into him. He learned that the easiest way to get Alphard to obey was to threaten Rookwood, so threaten he did. He did not feel bad about making Rookwood take the blame for Alphard; in fact, he relished it when Alphard closed his eyes in discomfort, trying to block out the sounds of his friend's screams.

However, Alphard did not obey quietly. Even now, when he was doing something as simple as bowing, he took his time. He was the last one to get down on the floor, and he maintained eye contact with Tom the whole time. Tom gritted his teeth; he would have to spend more of his time with the idiot. There were better things he could be doing.

Rookwood better be ready for another round of harsh torture, Tom thought as he turned away from the disobedient boy. He was already in a rather foul mood and this streak of rebellion did not help improve his mood.

"My Lord," Mulciber crawled forwards. Tom glanced down at him, no emotion present on his face. Mulciber took it as a sign to continue and said, "My Lord, we request your permission to attack a mudblood."

Tom turned his red eyes towards him. He had been constructing a new face for him. So far, he had only changed his eyes, but he was working on making a more terrifying face for himself. "And who," he spoke slowly, but clearly. "Is included in this 'we?'"

"Goyle and I, My Lord."

Tom nodded his approval. The two of them cleaned up quite nicely, and he didn't mind them reminding some mudbloods of their place. The place was swarming with them, and it was almost impossible to get through a hallway without running into at least three of them.

However, Alphard glared at Mulciber and said, "And who is this _mudblood_ you want to attack?" There was a challenging glint in his eyes and Mulciber glared at him, but didn't respond to the question.

"No, tell us," Tom drawled out. Alphard very rarely spoke up at the meetings, so it had to be something important for him to say. While he hated that Alphard was so disobedient, he was more perceptive than the others, which was something that Tom often used without the boy's knowledge.

"My Lord," Mulciber swiveled his eyes to Tom, looking very nervous. "I-I have nothing to hide…"

"If you truly had nothing to hide, you would be fine with telling us your plans," he gave Mulciber a disturbing smile, and the boy noticeably flinched. "We're all very interested."

"I-I…"

"Hermione Granger," Goyle blurted out.

Several things happened at once. Alphard, who seemed to have figured it out before Goyle spoke up, made a move towards the two, but Rookwood held him back. Mulciber looked like he had eaten something very sour and was glaring daggers at Goyle.

"Hermione Granger," Tom repeated, his voice quiet but heard over all. He turned his eyes away from Alphard, who was looking too worried for just a common friendship. It seemed that he had yet another thing that he had to punish the boy for; if there was anyone who could make small talk with her, it would only be him. "You want to attack Hermione Granger,"

Now that his plan was spilled into the open, Mulciber decided it would be better to go forwards than to pedal backwards. "Yes, My Lord," his eyes were cast wisely to the ground, but even that couldn't help him. "We promise to remove all the traces,"

"Yes, yes," Tom drawled, now walking in a circle around his kneeing form. Mulciber stiffened, but didn't move from his spot. "But did I give you _permission_ to do so?"

Goyle, being ever the stupid one, said dumbly, "Yes, you did."

Tom's magic flared up, and with a flick of his wand, Goyle flew into the wall with a loud bang and did not get up. Mulciber stiffened and made to scramble to his feet, but Tom waved his wand lazily and the boy fell to the ground, bound by invisible ropes.

"I told you," Tom's voice was dangerously quiet. Everyone else in the room seemed to be holding their breath. "To not bother her anymore. I told you to not tell anyone that you foolishly ganged up on her and then she embarrassed you. I told you to stay away from her, because even someone like _her_ could be you." Tom twirled his wand between his fingers. "I did not give you permission to attack her." He looked at the shaking boy sweetly. "Do you remember what was the punishment for even thinking about doing so?"

"My Lord, _please_—"

"Tell everyone what the punishment is, Mulciber. Everyone is very interested."

Mulciber looked as if he wished he was Goyle, the unconscious one lying on the floor. However, he didn't know that Tom planned to have his way with Goyle later as well; he had gone against Tom's orders, and punishment was necessary to enforce his rules.

"T-ten rounds of the Cruciatus. But please, My Lord, I won't—"

"Of course you won't," Tom said sweetly, though his eyes were dark as they glanced pitilessly at the boy on the floor. "That's what you said last time, wasn't it? And the time before." He shook his head. "You will never learn unless you are taught. And I am generous enough to teach you."

"My Lord—" Mulciber protested.

Tom flicked his wand, and instantly, screams filled the air. He sat back and closed his eyes in content, breathing and drinking and soaking in the sound. His remaining followers wisely remained quiet, and Tom ignored them, focusing only on the writhing boy in front of him.

This was a _much_ better way to spend his afternoon.

* * *

**Author's Note: **More character development here than plot, I suppose. With Hermione becoming more comfortable in her surroundings, and Tom just being…evil Tom. Thanks for reading, and see you around.


	4. An unknown room

**Author's Note: **I have no update schedule for neither this nor GD. The story simply gets updated whenever I feel like it. I do have the outline for the next chapter of GD, though, so I might update that soon. If I can get off my lazy butt, that is.

I have two new stories now—one is a multi-chaptered fic and one is a oneshot. The multi-chaptered fic is **Insurgence of Obscurity**, which was my secret santa fic. It'll update once a week since I already finished and have all the chapters in front of me. The oneshot is called **The Big Apple**. It is on the sweeter side and was published for New Years.

Anyway, I thank you for your patience. I seem to be able to find less and less time to write now, but I will try to work on that. Thanks to all you reviewers and favorites and subscribers and readers for continuing to stick with me! 2013…let's make this a good year.

Eventual Evanescence, Sabi1994, Mighty Ruler of Gummi Bears, LK-HoGwArTs-hEaDgIrL, BrightestWitchOfHerAge16, MyraValhallah, Anon, Jen103, Hugo The Diabolical Penguin, Naomi, Asarin159, Yuuki Kuchiki

This is unbeta'ed…like usual…because none of my betas like me. *cries*

* * *

"So where do you come from?"

Hermione looked up from her textbook as Alphard appeared next to her, an uncertain Rookwood trailing behind him. Ever since he issued that challenge to her, they had not spoken again. He seemed skirmish around her, and she respected his wishes and left him in peace, though it still annoyed her slightly when he bluntly shifted away from her as if she revolted him.

Alphard, on the other hand, was different. He sought her out on multiple occasions to talk. She understood Rookwood's concern and tried to steer clear of him as much as she could, but it was fairly hard to do when she was in the same classes as he was and he seemed to make it a mission to track her down and talk to her as much as he could. Feeling quite guilty sometimes when she noticed some cuts or bruises on his skin, she tried to take with him in private locations. However, Alphard would have none of that. He would approach her during class or in the hallways, in plain sight for everyone to see.

She wasn't sure if he had a death wish. He certainly acted like it. She wasn't sure if Tom had a death wish either, leaving so much evidence on Alphard's skin.

"Excuse me?" Hermione asked, snapping her textbook shut. Slughorn was characteristically late again, so she had decided to read her textbook outside to pass the time. She was already almost halfway through, though she didn't think she could read fast enough. She had to know everything before Slughorn taught it so she could raise her hand the maximum number of times. Also, it would be nice to go over it a couple of times; she always missed important details on her first run through.

"Where do you come from?" Alphard repeated himself. "Did you transfer here? Dippet wouldn't give anyone details, but I think that's because he doesn't know rather than he's respecting your privacy." Even Rookwood glanced at her curiously, but he looked away quickly when she stared at him.

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know."

There was a silence as Hermione debated whether or not to tell them. She felt like she was pretty close to them—Alphard, at least—but she hadn't even known them for more than a couple of weeks. They talked, but how much did she really know about them?

"You don't _know_?" Alphard echoed.

Hermione shrugged again. Tom had found out—though not necessarily the way she wanted him to. She had been under his charm and ready to blab anything. If she could tell Tom, she figured that Alphard definitely deserved the right to know. And she didn't think he would take it well if she told Rookwood to leave.

"I lost my memory," she clarified. "I suddenly appeared on the field with a note in my hand." Alphard opened his mouth, but Hermione cut him off. "Professor Dumbledore confiscated the note," she said, "so I have no idea what was on it. I do not remember any of my past either. I've tried to piece some things together, but I've worked out nothing."

There was another silence. And then, surprisingly, it was Rookwood who blurted out, "I'm sorry."

Hermione blinked. "Why are you sorry? There's nothing wrong with me right now. I'm enjoying the life I have here. Perhaps sometimes it's better not to remember. I must have done some terrible things in my past life to get here. I want to find out, but at the same time I really think that those things are better left forgotten." She shrugged. "If I remember, I can never forget."

"What makes you think that your past is so terrible?" Alphard raised an eyebrow.

"What makes you think that my past is so great?" Hermione countered. "I must have done something terrible to end up here, right? Why else would I be sent here, losing my memory in the process? I had to have done _something_. Innocent people don't just randomly drop down, teleport and lose their memory."

"That, or you just have really bad luck," Alphard said softly. "There are some people in the world who just have terrible luck that everything they do is decided by other people, not themselves. Someone could have done something to you, Hermione, to make you end up here. That doesn't make you a terrible person."

Hermione just shrugged, not really convinced. It didn't matter, anyway. "Maybe."

Alphard went back to talking with Rookwood, who looked more than happy that Alphard was no longer talking to her. She picked up her textbook again, but she watched the two of them out of the corner of her eye. The two of them shared such a deep bond of friendship and mutual trust.

As she watched the, Hermione felt a sense of jealousy stir within her. Did she ever have that kind of love in her past life? She wanted someone who she could tell everything to, who she could do everything with. She wanted someone who she could claim as her best friend, her companion. She wanted to be inseparable with someone.

She supposed that she was somewhat lonely. After all, Alphard had Rookwood and Cedrella had Charlus. Even Tom had Druella attached to him. She was once again the odd man out. She wanted someone who would put her in front of everyone else. She wanted to be someone's first priority.

She immediately felt guilty for thinking so selfishly. There were so many people here treating her so nicely. So what if she wasn't their first priority? She was grateful enough that they at least were willing to speak with her. She should cherish what she had and stop yearning for the impossible.

"Hermione," Alphard said, turning his attention back toward her. There were only a couple of minutes before class began, so the students had begun trickling down the corridor. Rookwood obviously had noticed, and shrunk away from Hermione like she was the plague. At least he had the decency to look slightly guilty when she looked at him.

"Yes?" She waved at Cedrella, who passed her in the corridor. The girl smiled back, but cast the two Slytherins a quizzical look. Hermione detected a tad of anger in her eyes, but Cedrella hid it well. It was no secret that Gryffindors and Slytherins despised each other, but unlike Charlus, Cedrella did not purposely pick fights with anyone.

Alphard tilted his head slightly to one side, regarding Cedrella with dark, unfathomable eyes. Cedrella's face immediately turned sour and she let out a huff before she promptly stomped away. It occurred to Hermione then that she had not told any of her Gryffindor friends that she talked to Alphard. Perhaps that was why Cedrella had suddenly been upset.

Rookwood grinned, something she had seen him do toward Alphard multiple times. It irked her slightly how he could pour all his emotions into one facial expression for Alphard, yet he could not even manage a small smile for her.

Rookwood flicked Alphard's arm, nudging his head toward Cedrella's retreating back. Alphard shook his head, scowling, while Hermione eyed them both quizzically. It did not seem that they had any intention of telling her, though. Perhaps it would be best if she asked Cedrella later if she knew anything.

"As I was saying," Alphard said. "What you were saying earlier about your memory loss, does Tom know about it?"

He didn't know about the note. But he knew enough. "Yes."

"Shit."

Hermione blinked, wondering why it was so terrible that Tom knew. Even if he was intrigued by the note, she didn't have it. He would have to go ask Professor Dumbledore for it, and it didn't take a genius to realize that the two of them simply did not get along well.

She wasn't _that_ important, anyway. Who cared if she didn't have her memory?

However, before she could say anything, someone's loud voice rang in the corridor. "Oh my, Alphie said a _bad_ word."

Hermione blinked. The girl who stood in front of them was beautiful. Her dark locks curled past her shoulders. She stood, tall and gracefully, reminding Hermione very much of a Dark Queen. Her chin was held up high, and she ignored Hermione completely. Hermione, however, couldn't help but stare at her.

Alphard, however, looked unimpressed by her beauty. "Ella," he greeted chilly.

"Alphie, you could look a bit happier to see me," 'Ella' cooed, latching onto his arm. Alphard shot her a disgusted look, but couldn't seem to pry her off. Ella's eyes lit up when she spotted the boy next to him. "Hello Rookie."

Rookwood tilted his head to one side. He did not seem to hate the girl as much as Alphard, but he didn't look pleased to see her either. "Elladora."

Hermione, understanding that she was not included in this conversation, picked up her textbook again. She wished, not for the first time, that Slughorn would be on time for his classes. She felt so vulnerable, waiting outside the classroom. She always had to do something with her hands, and the most logical thing to do was to read to pass her time.

However, she heard snickers every time a group passed by.

She was already well known, despite not being at the school for very long. She had to run her Head Girl duties, some things that were both enjoyable yet tiring at the same time. The Prefects were the least of her problems; aside from Tom challenging everything she said, the Prefects' meeting always ran quite smoothly.

It was the other students who did not think she had enough authority, and she supposed that they were correct. She tried telling them that it was not her choice, but of course they didn't listen. While Augusta had not been the most well liked person in the school, everyone seemed to prefer her over Hermione. After all, many people thought of her to be nothing more than a snotty know-it-all and a 'mudblood.'

She had finally found out what the word meant, and she had confronted Tom about it. However, he was not even remotely abashed and simply smirked at her, asking her what her point was. There was, in his mind, nothing wrong with using such an insult. After all, he had said, why shouldn't he call her by what she was?

She was going to gain some dirt on him one day, and she was going to use it to her advantage. Tom Riddle would regret ever crossing her. That thought brought a smile to her face.

Suddenly, she was ripped out of her thoughts when her textbook was knocked out of her arms. Unfortunately for her, she did not move in time and the heavy book landed painfully on her foot. She let out a gasp of pain.

Accidents happen. Hermione was about to let it slide as an accident, but one look at Elladora's face convinced her that it was anything _but_ an accident.

However, she did not want to go picking fights when Slughorn would be arriving at any moment. It would not look good for her if Slughorn saw her dueling. Hermione just bent down to pick up her book and moved away respectfully, placing distance between her and the girl.

"That's right, mudblood, you should be groveling on the ground." Elladora cackled. There was that word again. Mudblood. What had society come to, that people could deem themselves superior to others of the same kind? "You are a waste of space. It is a waste to let your kind breathe the same air as us."

Hermione frowned, but before she could say anything, Alphard grabbed her arm. "Ella," he said, a warning in his voice. Hermione wondered what they were. Friends? She seemed to be too intimate with him for that. Lovers? It had to be a one-sided love, then; Alphard seemed to have no interest in her. Hermione had never seen him talk like this to anyone but Tom.

Elladora's eyes widened and she took a step back, covering her mouth dramatically. She gasped loudly. "So it _is_ true!" she said, pointing an accusing finger at Alphard. "You have been fraternizing with mudbloods!"

Before Alphard could do anything but scowl, Rookwood jumped in. "No, no. You have it wrong," he said. Hermione noticed that his eyes were darting back and forth, as if making sure no one else could hear their conversation. "Alphard is not doing anything like that."

Alphard glared at his friend, who shrunk back. "I can fight my own battles, Evan." Rookwood looked a little glum, but he nodded. "I would appreciate if you do not mention that word in front of Hermione," he said darkly.

"First name basis, now, are you?" Elladora smirked, looking over at Hermione. She crossed her arms, refusing to back down as Elladora's eyes travelled over her body. "Quite a small little thing, isn't she?" She leaned again, cooing. "You can do _so_ much better, Alphie."

She looked as though she was about to say something else, but she was cut off when a figure flew out of nowhere and tackled Hermione, hugging her around the waist. Hermione was equally as surprised as everyone else, and she blinked and looked down at the girl hugging her.

"Hi Hermione!" Druella said cheerfully, her eyes glimmering happily. Hermione had no idea what she had done to receive friendship from the girl. They were acquaintances, sure, but she did not even think they were at the friends stage, let alone the best friends stage.

Over the top of her head, she could see Tom strolling down the hallway, looking very amused as Hermione patted Druella's back awkwardly.

"Hello, Druella."

Druella beamed, and then turned. "Hi Evan! Hi Alphard!" Then, she caught sight of Elladora and frowned. "Ella, I know your family has a history with incest, but could you please remove yourself from him?" She snuggled closer to Tom, who had come up behind her. "I don't want Tom to see something like that yet. He's not ready."

"What?" Elladora's face blazed with fury and she all but leapt away from Alphard. Alphard, on the other hand, just looked fairly amused. "We don't have a history with incest! Not us, and certainly not the noble line of Blacks! How dare you insult us!"

"Ella," Alphard said evenly, not fazed by his sister's rage. "Don't you have to go to class?"

Elladora stomped off, giving Druella a glare as she went. The girl didn't notice, as she was busy pulling Tom over to Hermione. Hermione, on the other hand, was processing what had just happened.

_So, Alphard and Elladora are siblings?_ She snorted. Though she had not seen much of Elladora, it didn't seem as if the two of them were similar in any way. However, she would have to be more careful around Alphard; with a sister like that, _surely_ he would've inherited a couple of the same genes.

"Morning, Granger."

"Morning, Riddle."

Tom shot her a smirk, which she just ignored, returning to her book. Druella looked crestfallen that the two of them weren't interacting, but before she could say anything about the matter, Slughorn popped out of nowhere, apologizing profusely about being late. He unlocked his classroom door and ushered all of them inside.

As Hermione was waiting for the people in front of her to file into the classroom, she leaned over and whispered in Alphard's ear, "Your sister is…interesting."

"Unfortunately, interesting doesn't come anywhere close to describing her."

* * *

"Come on, hurry up! Why are you so slow?"

"It would help if you would tell me where we're going." Hermione panted, though Charlus did not let go of his tight grip on his wrist. "Are we breaking the rules? Charlus Potter, if we get in trouble, I'm going to blame you. I'm the Head Girl, for Merlin's sake! I can't just break curfew."

"Relax. Curfew is not for another thirty minutes." Charlus dragged her through the halls. She was sure that had Cedrella not been busy fixing up a transfiguration essay, he would not even have wasted the time with Hermione.

However, she quickly pushed that thought out of her head. It wouldn't do her any good if she kept thinking negatively. She was being dragged along by Charlus, taken to an unknown place. That was the only thing she should have been focusing on.

"Aha! Here we are." After what seemed like hours, Charlus pulled her to a stop in front of a giant portrait. He looked very pleased with himself, like a little boy waiting for his mother to praise his accomplishments.

Hermione, however, merely raised an eyebrow. "Yes, it is very pretty," she said dryly, looking up at the giant portrait. "However, I do believe you could have waited until lunch tomorrow to show this to me."

"It's not a plain old portrait, silly." Charlus rolled his eyes, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "It is a secret passage to a _wonderful_ new place."

"Right."

"I'm getting the odd feeling that you don't believe me," Charlus said cheerily.

"Nothing odd about that."

"Just tickle the pear, will you?" Charlus sighed. "You were the one so worried about curfew, and now you are leisurely chatting. What caused the sudden change in mind?"

"Tickle the _what_?"

Charlus sighed. "The _pear_, Hermione," he said slowly, as if he were speaking to a little kid. "That red thing is an apple, that yellow thing is a banana, and naturally, the green thing is a—"

"I know what a pear is, thank you." Hermione cut him off. "You brought me down here to tickle a pear?"

"I did promise you a wonderful new place." Charlus shrugged. "Sometimes, you gotta look silly in public. Just forget about what everyone thinks about and just do it if you think it's right."

"But I don't think it's right," Hermione murmured. She supposed, though, that he had a point. For her Head Girl situation, she didn't need to think about what others said about her. She was there to do her job, not to make people like her. The faster she learned that, the easier she would be able to fit in to her role.

"Hermione. Either you tickle the pear or I will. I've done it millions of times already, and I was being considerate and letting you try for once. However, if you don't want to look silly, just tell me and we can stop wasting time."

There seemed to be a touch of accusation in his voice. Hermione sighed. "No, it's alright. I'll do it." Feeling very silly indeed, she reached out, tickling the pear as Charlus had told her to. She nearly jumped up when the pear started giggling, before turning into a green knob.

Hermione stared as the door opened and a staircase leading to darkness appeared before her.

"Come on, now, this is not the exciting part." Charlus took off down the stairs in a hurry, leaving Hermione to catch up to him. She didn't have a particularly good feeling about going down there, but she didn't want to leave Charlus by himself either.

Charlus hadn't told her what to do with the door, so she quickly glanced around to make sure no one was watching before closing it hurriedly. She could barely see and almost tripped over her feet, but the sound of Charlus calling to her in a faraway place made her continue her descent down the stairs.

"Welcome to my paradise." Charlus swept his arms around dramatically. Hermione gaped. She never would have guessed that such a big and magnificent room could be at the end of such a small, dark staircase.

Hermione looked around in wonder, watching as little creatures scuttled around what appeared to be a kitchen. The sweet scent of food reach her nostrils and she inhaled deeply. Ever since she had first tasted Hogwarts' food, she had been absolutely in love with it.

"This is the kitchen." Charlus grinned, steering the frozen Hermione around a counter and set her in one of the chairs. "I come here when I want to think, and the house elves always make something nice to eat. Sometimes, Cedrella is just too much to bear and I come here to escape her persistent whining."

Hermione was appalled. "Charlus!"

"What?" Charlus asked, unabashed. "Cedrella knows she whines too much. She admits it herself."

"And I wonder what you say about _me_ behind my back," Hermione muttered.

"Only good things, I promise." Charlus' eyes twinkled. "But you shouldn't care what anybody says about you. I find that the happiest people are the ones who don't give a bloody damn what others say about them." He grinned. "And you know what makes me happy? Food."

Right as he said this, a house elf scurried up. "How may I help you, Master Charlus?"

"Hello, Penny, can you get me some hot soup?" Charlus requested. "I'm afraid I must have caught the flu. My throat is not feeling particularly well at the moment."

"Is Master Charlus all right?" Penny squeaked. "Does Master Charlus require assistance?"

"I'm fine, Penny. A soup would be satisfactory."

Penny nodded quickly, and then looked over at Hermione. It took her a moment that the house elf was waiting for her to order. "Oh, no, it's okay." She smiled at it. "I'm not hungry right now."

"Nonsense." Charlus chastised. "You can't come all the way down to the kitchen and eat _nothing_."

"Oh, very well then. A sandwich would be lovely. I'll eat whatever you make." She smile down at Penny again and fished into her pocket, drawing out a couple of golden coins. She pressed one into Penny's hand, and was surprised when the house elf jumped back.

"No, Miss, I can't…" Penny trailed off, looking at the ground in embarrassment. Before Hermione could say anything else, the creature scuttled away back into the kitchen where the other house elves were cooking.

Hermione looked over at Charlus, who had raised one eyebrow. "Why did she do that?" Hermione asked. "Is she revolted by me? She didn't have to act so suddenly…if she doesn't want me here, I'll be glad to leave."

Charlus looked at her like she had grown two heads. "Of course it's not that. Have you never met a house elf before?"

Hermione shook her head and Charlus let out a low whistle. "Have you lived under a rock?" he muttered to himself under his breath. Hermione hadn't told neither Cedrella nor Charlus about her memory loss. She supposed she ought to have told them by now, but it never seemed to be the right time.

"House elves don't like being paid," Charlus said. "They like what they're doing, so you'll only serve to frighten or anger them if you try to pay them. Just treat them nicely, and you'll get along just fine with them."

Hermione's jaw dropped open. "You mean they work so hard and they aren't _paid_?"

Charlus just shrugged. "No, not really."

"That's unacceptable!" Hermione hadn't realized that she was shouting until she saw Charlus almost fall out of his chair. She lowered her voice a little. "How can you guys allow these house elves to work like slaves? If you rely so heavily upon then, the least you could do is give them something to repay them. At least give them something warmer to wear. Those rags Penny was wearing didn't look like it covered much."

"You really don't know anything," Charlus mused thoughtfully. "You can't give a house elf clothes. It'll end up freeing them from their Masters, and most of the house elves are so emotionally attached to their owners that the last thing they want to do is be freed."

Hermione opened her mouth, and then shut it again. She would have to do something about the house elves later, but it didn't seem as if Charlus was coming anywhere closer to understanding her point of view. It would be pointless to continue arguing with him. "That's still stupid," she finally muttered.

"I didn't make the rules."

Hermione was perplexed. Charlus was a nice guy. She had never seen him intentionally harm someone. But why would he just go along with this? Why did he just accept the fact that house elves were inferior? It made no sense. No matter what type of loyalty the house elf and its master shared, the house elf still deserved something in return for their hard work.

"Enjoying your first week at school?" Charlus asked kindly. "Hogwarts can be quite overwhelming at times. It's unlike anything you have ever seen before."

Hermione wanted to point out that she couldn't remember anything _other_ than Hogwarts, but chose not to comment on that. Instead, she said, "I like it. The building is magnificent, and my fellow students and professors have been nothing but nice to me." She did not mention the 'mudblood' word, and Charlus did not ask.

Penny scuttled up to them, carrying a bowl and a plate. She looked wary of Hermione, who resisted the urge to toss her a piece of clothing and instead just smiled gently at the creature.

"I'm sorry for offending you, Penny," she said. "My name is Hermione Granger. It's very nice to meet you."

Penny seemed to loosen up considerably. "Penny is not offended, Miss!" She chirped, handing Hermione her sandwich. "Penny is delighted to meet Miss Hermione!"

Hermione wondered if she had any sisters in her past life. It would be nice, she decided, to have a little girl look up to her as a role model. As long as the kid did not make too much noise while she was studying, she would be more than happy if she learned that she had a sibling.

"Penny hopes Master Charlus feels better!" Penny squeaked, depositing the bowl of soup in front of Charlus. "Master Charlus and Miss Hermione should call if they need anything else! Penny will be in the kitchen!" Without another word, Penny zoomed back into the kitchen.

The two of them ate in silence, and Hermione once again took the time to appreciate the delicious food. Even with something as simple as a sandwich, the house elves seemed to be able to take the whole thing to the next level. Hermione savored each bite and was fairly disappointed when she reached her last one.

"I have to admit, I'm surprised." Charlus grinned at her. "I never expected you to be so kindhearted. It took Cedrella a couple times to get used to the house elves, but you're a natural."

Hermione shrugged, and another thought popped into her head. "Speaking of Cedrella…" she said.

"Hm?" Charlus had finished his soup and was stabbing a soggy piece of vegetable with his spoon, but he looked up when Hermione talked.

"I saw her while I was waiting for Professor Slughorn," she said, getting the sudden feeling that she was ratting her friend out. "Both she and Alphard Black looked a bit uncomfortable when they saw each other and acted kind of weirdly. Do you know what happened between the two of them?"

"And how would you know Alphard was acting weirdly?" There was a sharp tone in Charlus' voice, his easy grin sliding off his face. It made Hermione regret asking the question in the first place.

"We're…acquainted," she said. She wasn't quite sure if they were at the friendship level yet.

"Acquainted." Charlus snorted. "I should've known that idiot would attract your attention."

Hermione, thoroughly confused now, just looked at him.

Charlus sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Cedrella and Alphard have no history together," he told her, and Hermione recognized it as a dismissal. She should have never brought this topic up. It was none of her business and she was prying.

Hermione nodded. "I'm sorry," she told him earnestly, though she supposed it didn't mean too much.

Charlus didn't even look like he heard her. "They haven't talked to each other at all." Charlus admitted, though Hermione didn't know why he was still talking. "They just know each other…through me."

"_You_?" Hermione blinked.

"Yes." Charlus sighed. "Alphard and I…we used to be friends."

From the tone of his voice, they seemed to be much more than just friends.

"You were—"

"That was a long time ago." Charlus interrupted her, seeing to have no intention of letting her speak. Hermione closed her mouth. "We grew up, shed our innocence, and moved on. We don't communicate any more. Cedrella and Alphard know to steer clear of each other."

It made Hermione wonder what could have broken up such a friendship, yet the dismissal tone was evident in Charlus' voices. Swallowing down the millions of questions she had waiting, she instead just nodded. She would find out some day. It was against her nature if she left herself curious. But it seemed like she would have to do her own research now.

Hermione followed Charlus back upstairs, pondering over the new information.

* * *

"Hermione! Excellent, excellent. Thank you for staying after."

Hermione nodded politely, aware that Alphard was waiting for her outside and had somehow roped Rookwood into staying as well. She had told him to go on without her—she never knew how long it would take with Slughorn—but whether it was because of concern or curiosity, he refused to budge.

Ever since that conversation with Charlus, she had tried to work out why his friendship with Alphard had been broken up, but she had found nothing thus far. They did a pretty good job at covering up their tracks, if that had been their intention. She had almost not been able to find that they were friends in the first place, and she would have never found it if Charlus hadn't told her.

She was never one to give up, though. She would keep searching until she found what she was looking for.

"You are a bright witch, m'girl. Very bright indeed." Slughorn frowned when he spotted Alphard bluntly eavesdropping from the door. He flicked his wand to shut the door.

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione said uncertainly. She was not yet sure of the purpose of this little meeting. Tom certainly had thought she was sucking up to him and glared at her as he left. She had been a little surprised when he hadn't stayed after with her just to make sure she wasn't saying anything bad about him. Not that it would've mattered anyway; Slughorn's opinion of Tom was _so_ high Hermione didn't think she could put a single dent in it.

Slughorn lowered his voice, like he was worried that Alphard had his ear pressed against the door. "I have seen you conversing with Alphard and Evan. Dumbledore would be pleased with the house unity."

If she was being awarded because of house unity, she did not want it. It would only attract more attention to Rookwood, whom she knew would hate it. Also, she was trying to get on his good side. She was still perplexed as to where he came in the Alphard and Charlus friendship.

"You might have noticed that Evan…is a bit behind."

Hermione blinked, surprised. She honestly hadn't. But then again, she had been doing all the work for the group, so she did not have time to gauge their abilities either. Perhaps she ought to stop pushing herself so hard and let others do the work too.

But then she thought about how Tom would misinterpret the gesture as backing down, and she was most certainly not doing that.

"No, Professor, I have not."

Slughorn sighed. "I was hoping that you might be able to help me, m'dear."

"Me?" She didn't know what Slughorn wanted her to help with. No matter how much he claimed to appreciate her talent, it was fairly obvious that Tom was still his favorite. If he needed help, he should have ask Tom.

"Yes, I was hoping that you would be willing to help tutor Evan for a little bit. He appears to trust you." Hermione wanted to snort. Rookwood anything _but_ trusted her. "Would you mind sparing a little of your free time to help him?"

"Of course, Professor," Hermione said politely, wondering why Slughorn himself wasn't offering _hisi free _time. Wasn't it a Professor's job to make sure his students were caught up? Then, because she had never been one known to keep her mouth shut, she asked, "What about Tom?"

"Tom? Oh, m'dear, you need to understand that Tom is a _very_ busy person," Slughorn said. "He has to balance his homework and keep up with his Head Boy duties. There simply is not time for him to do this."

She wanted to yell at him that _she_ had to balance her homework and keep up with her Head Girl duties as well, but she thought against it. It made her sort of proud, knowing that Slughorn decided to ask _her_ instead of Tom, no matter what kind of excuses he made about not asking Tom first.

She thanked him and went outside, a little surprised when she saw both Alphard and Rookwood still waiting there. She realized that this was _not_ what Rookwood wanted, and it would only make him hate her even more.

Would Alphard side with her or Rookwood? Why did she feel like this was going to widen the already growing gap between her and Rookwood? She didn't even know why she accepted Slughorn's request now. She should've just told him she didn't have any time.

"You were in there for awhile," Alphard said. He fell into step next to her as she headed towards the Great Hall. Rookwood was trailing behind them, seemingly looking over his shoulder every two seconds to make sure no one could see Alphard and Hermione walking together.

Hermione just shrugged. "It's Professor Slughorn," she said as an explanation.

Alphard nodded. "What did he want from you?"

Hermione sighed; it was just like Alphard to get straight to the point. She stopped walking and turned toward Rookwood, who looked surprised that she was giving him any attention. She had been trying to avoid doing so for the past few days.

"Professor Slughorn said that you were falling behind in Potions," Hermione said, watching as a frown appeared on Alphard's face. Rookwood's expression, however, did not change. Perhaps he was trying to pretend to not listen to her. "He asked me to be your tutor. And I have said yes."

Rookwood blinked a couple of times, and then looked over his shoulder, as if he thought Hermione was talking to the person right behind him. Upon realizing that the three of them were alone, he whirled back around. "_Me_?" He pointed to himself.

"Yes."

Rookwood looked like he was about to pass out. Alphard clapped his friend on the back, seemingly ignoring the horrified expression on his face. "Isn't that great, Evan? You always complained about how difficult Potions was for you."

"But…_you're_ tutoring me?" Rookwood's voice suddenly sounded squeaky. It occurred to her that he was deathly afraid of being seen with her in private. It sort of made her feel kind of bad for him. Everyone had fears, after all. Unluckily for him, his just happened to be Hermione.

"I'm afraid so." Hermione responded evenly. Then, feeling it necessary, she added, "I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" Alphard frowned, but both of them ignored him.

Rookwood took a deep breath. Hermione knew he hated the arrangement, but anyone who remotely knew Slughorn knew that he was very stubborn. It was almost impossible to change his mind when he decided on something.

"Well, then." Rookwood sighed. "I suppose there's no way out of this. Do you know where the Changing Room is?"

Hermione blinked and shook her head. She only knew where her classes and her room were. And now, apparently, where the kitchen was as well.

"We can meet there once a week to work," Rookwood said. "It is a quiet, desolate area where we won't be interrupted. I'll show you the way there the first time, but after that, it's up to yourself to get there. Are we clear?"

"Evan." Alphard frowned.

"It's alright," Hermione said. "Okay. We will meet in this Changing Room once a week to compare Potions notes and homeworks." She glanced at Alphard. "Will you be coming as well?"

Alphard look back and forth. He seemed to be debating about it. In the end, he shook his head. "It's okay," he said. "I'll give you two some private time together."

Right, because all Rookwood wanted was to have even _more_ private time with her.

* * *

"I thought you'd never come."

"I never break my promises, Granger." Tom stepped into the room. It didn't escape Hermione's notice that he locked the door behind him. She was instantly alert; if he tried anything fishy, she had to be ready for it.

"Right." Hermione stood up from the chair she had been lounging in, snapping shut her textbook that she had been reading to kill time. Ever since Rookwood had _surprisingly_ agreed to be tutored, she had been starting to research up ways to teach him. She decided that since he said yes despite obviously not wanting to, she would put in all her effort to make sure that he got the most of their sessions. "Where do we start?"

"The basics," Tom said smoothly, drawing his wand. "Let's start with the disarming spell."

Hermione was slightly offended, but hid it well. Perhaps he just wanted to start slow, and then work it up to the harder spells. Hermione drew her wand as well, waiting for his next instructions.

"The spell is 'expelliarmus,'" Tom explained. "Repeat after me. Ex. Pel. Li. Ar. Mus."

Hermione just stared at him. It suddenly crossed her mind that he was mocking her, and this whole thing was a fluke. Perhaps he was just here to mock her. Feeling suddenly quite angry, she waved her wand and sent the disarming spell toward him.

Unfortunately, it didn't hit him, though she supposed that she would have been rather surprised if it had. However, Tom now looked at her with a new curiosity. "You can do nonverbal magic?" he inquired.

Hermione blinked. She hadn't realized she hadn't spoken out loud. "Maybe, I'm not sure." Tom's gaze on her was beginning to get a little unsettling, so she quickly changed the topic. "Can we just duel?"

Tom's lips quirked up. "As the lady wishes," he said. Before Hermione could do anything other than mentally prepare herself, he began to shoot spells at her rapidly, allowing her little time to relax in between spells.

She had not dueled yet since she had arrived here. She had read books, of course, so she had a whole boxful of spells in her mind. However, reading about dueling and actually dueling were two completely different things. For one, she now had to focus not only on getting her own spells to fire correctly, but to guard herself against Tom's as well.

Tom was obviously holding back, but he still seemed to enjoy himself. He seemed at ease, not pressured at all. Of course, when she was scrambling all over the place to avoid his spells, there was little chance for her to attack him. The few times that she managed to get a spell off, he blocked it with a simple spell and went right back to attacking her.

"Time out," Hermione said, breathing rather heavily. To her surprise, Tom listened to her. He leaned casually against the wall, looking down at her with an amused smirk on his face. He was enjoying this, enjoying watching her struggle.

However, she was the one who asked him to teach her magic in the first place. She couldn't just go and blame it on him.

"Giving up already, Granger?" Tom asked smoothly. "I didn't figure you were a quitter."

"I'm not quitting." Hermione shot him a sour glare. "I'm merely resting for a couple minutes. Give me a second to breathe, and we can restart the duel again."

Tom tilted his head to one side. "You should know, Granger, that you can't pause a duel." Despite her protests, Tom began firing his spells at her once again, and Hermione was forced to start moving again.

In the beginning, it was just a mad scramble for her. She was overwhelmed by the duel, and did nothing to try and recognize the spells he was using. Instead, she opted to dodge and duck without even trying to place a shield around herself. The more she scrambled, the more amused Tom looked.

Finally, she decided to stand her ground. So what if she got hit by a couple of spells? The spells Tom was using didn't seem particularly life-threatening. And weren't the toughest people often covered in scars? She would have more dignity if she was hit than if she continued her mad scrambling around the room.

Tom raised his eyebrow when he saw Hermione stand up with a determined look on her face. "Finally decided to duel?"

"Shut your face," Hermione growled at him, flicking a couple of curses his way. They all missed him, unfortunately, but it made him move more than he had before. He narrowed his eyes and shot his spells at her quicker.

Now that she was fully concentrating on the duel, she could start to identify the spells that he was shooting at her. Her mind automatically linked them with the correct shield she should use, and she started blocking Tom's attacks rather than dodging them.

Tom, she noticed, had began to change. His eyes darkened, and the amused look was no longer on his face. Instead, he was scowling at her. He still seemed to be quite at ease—none of her spells came anywhere close to harming him—but there was a slight tension in his posture now.

Hermione was enthralled by the way he dueled. His arm flew back and forth elegantly, and he made even _dueling_ look…attractive. Hermione couldn't seem to keep her eyes off of him, how he was so fluent that it almost looked like a dance. A deadly dance.

Then, while she was watching him, the strangest thing happened. Tom's face seemed to morph right in front of hers. His face changed, and Hermione gaped as someone who looked quite like Charlus stared back at her.

She was distinctively aware that she was no longer in the room she had just been dueling with Tom. The Charlus-lookalike stared down at her while she laid in a bed in a hospital room. His hair was as messy as Charlus' was, and his glasses were the same type that Charlus wore.

However, there was one big difference. This man's eyes were green.

Hermione felt a stab in her arm, and she knew that somewhere out there, her other self had just been hit by Tom's spell. She didn't know what reality was any more. Was this a bit of her memories, concealed within the memory block, starting to leak out?

All of a sudden, everything in the room flashed between her eyes and she was transported back into the dueling room again. The first thing she noticed was that Tom was looking at her rather strangely. The next thing she felt was the soreness of her arm. She looked down at it. It was dripping blood onto the floor.

She suddenly felt quite woozy. From what, she did not know. It was just a stinging hex, not particularly threatening. Was it because of her memories that she had just recovered? She couldn't get those green eyes out of her mind.

Hermione fainted.

* * *

**Author's Note: **I apologize for the lack of Tomione moments. It seems like Tom just likes to run away from me right now. I know many of you suggested Alphard x Hermione, but this will remain a Tom x Hermione story. Maybe I'll try Alphard x Hermione if I ever have time.

Thanks for reading.


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